As Stupid Does
by chocoholicannanymous
Summary: In which there's introspection à la Stiles, and a hint that Stiles' new life isn't exactly supe-free... (Part 3 of the Stupid 'verse) Multi-chapter WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything – except for a red hoodie...

**...As Stupid Does**

**part 3 of the Stupid 'verse**

Once upon a time Stiles would have told anyone who would listen – and quite a few who wouldn't – that he wasn't stupid, thank you very much. He doesn't any longer. Not because he's begun to think less of his brains, but, well. Stupid is as stupid does, and Stiles? The record shows that Stiles has done **a lot** of stupid things.

Then again, that's more because he's easily bored and much too impulsive for his own good. Or, you know, anyone else's. (He still carries the guilt over Scott getting bit. Over **getting** Scott bit.)

That needs to change, and Stiles swears that he'll make it so when he starts his new life – the one he only has because he was stupid and got himself... "involved" with Derek Hale. The one his dad gave up **everything** to give him.

They arrive in Port Angeles October 1th. Stiles puts his new plan, his new lifestyle to the test that same day. It takes time, and he backslides on occasion, but for the largest part it works.

His grades are where they should be. He makes friends, both boys and girls. No one is as close to him as Scott, nor as amazing as Lydia (who totally was his friend for a while there), as badass as Allison (and by some grace or other it no longer hurts to think of her) or as fabulous and sassy as Jungle's drag queens. (He finds new drag queens though. He is, after all, not **completely** stupid.)

He tries out for – and makes – the track team. Endless bouts of suicides and countless laps around the lacrosse field coupled with running for his life has done wonders for both speed and stamina, it appears.

And he fixes things at home. This is easily the most important thing to him. He. Fixes. Things. At home, with his father.

Being careful not to jump into any stupid shit does wonders for the relationship between Stiles and his father. Not having any **supernatural** shit to jump into even more so. The most important part of it, however, is the fact that he no longer lies to his dad.

Not having to keep anyone's secrets makes him feel light and free, and that carries through when he talks to his dad. Still, it's not enough to just stop with that, or so he decided when they left Beacon Hills. So these days Stiles is probably one of the most honest teenagers in the state of Washington, maybe even the country.

No more white lies about attraction, or friendships, or school. No more evasive maneuvers. None of that. He doesn't tell his dad **everything** of course, because first of all that would mean dragging up some ugly shit he wants to keep in the past and secondly everyone needs some measure of privacy.

He just won't lie. Not about going on a date with a sweet freshman with gorgeous black braids or about turning down the offer for a second date because her laugh doesn't do half as much for him as that of the guy sitting behind him in Spanish.

Not about turning down the lanky senior from the swim team (though he **does** keep quiet about the reason being the guy's eyes are a copy of Derek Hale's).

Not about sleepless nights, or missing Scott – and his mom – or about that one homophobic ass that went after him when the news of Stiles being bi hit the school. (Nor about his relief – and his silent gloating – when the boy is taken to task.)

He doesn't even lie about what's **really** in the casserole he serves for Sunday dinner.

As for John Stilinski, well, he tries harder too. Being the sheriff, even of a small town such as Beacon Hills, might have meant higher status but being a "simple" police officer in Port Angeles means better hours and significantly less stress. This means Stiles eases up on the healthy food, and John stops trying to sneak as much junk by his son. Even better, he goes days, sometimes weeks without alcohol.

John too makes new friends, that make him take up fishing, and even start talking about maybe dating again.

Things are **good**, better than they have been since before Scott got bitten, and Stiles welcomes 2013 with enthusiasm. He's happy.

The fact that this doesn't trigger Stiles' spidey sense just proves that he doesn't have one. _And exactly how unfair isn't that?_

It all ends the day Stiles tags along on one of those fishing trips and comes across a gorgeous male that would have all of Stiles' hormones singing the hallelujah if it wasn't for one simple fact. He's willing to swear on the fact that not even a minute earlier that same guy was a huge wolf. Werewolf.

Fuck.

He doesn't realize he said it out loud until the guy turns and nails Stiles with a dark-eyed stare.

Double fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything – except for a red hoodie...

**...As Stupid Does**

**part 3 of the Stupid 'verse**

**2/?**

So. There's a werewolf – or a guy he's pretty damn sure is a werewolf – in Port Angeles. Fuck. Stiles can feel his heart speed up, and forces himself to relax. He can't go all the way, like he would if he was safe at home behind a barrier of mountain ash with weapons within reach, but he needs to calm down before he passes out.

A little panic is good, keeps him on edge, gives him ideas, but he's too close to the wrong side of that line. He forces air down in his lungs, one deep breath at a time, but never lets his eyes leave the wolf.

He's a survivor of Beacon Hills. You don't get to call yourself that without learning the basic rules of dealing with potential threats. And this guy? This guy has **all** the potential.

Stiles studies the wolf carefully. Dark eyes, black hair, russet skin – most likely native – and bulging muscles. As for age, well, based on looks he'd say around 25, but after a while he notices something playful about this wolf that makes him think younger.

Less predator, more puppy. Maybe.

And **yes**, he's wised up enough to keep that sentiment to himself.

He really doesn't have a death wish. Previous displays of contrary behavior be damned. He doesn't.

If this wolf really does display the same puppyish tendencies that so defines his best friend – and yes, Scott still holds that title, no matter what – then that's Stiles' out. Or in. Whichever gets him safely back to his dad and his new, normal life.

The guy flashes him a worried smile – one that ramps up the reminders of Derek, thank you very much not at all – and Stiles braces himself. This is it, the first real move. How everything else plays out will be dependent on whatever comes out of the wolf's mouth in the next few seconds.

"Werewolf? Are you one of those live role players? Or are you on drugs? Do I need to call for help, a doctor or someone?"

He's torn between scoffing and admiring. The guy is good. Stiles almost believe him, wants to, and he **knows** that werewolves are real. Part of it is that the guy's good looking, sure, but it's his personality too. This, Stiles is willing to bet, is the one in his circle of friends who was sent to ask for extra cookies, who was once used as a front when trying to get away with something shady.

Doesn't help. Puppy or not, this **is** a werewolf. Stiles knows this as clearly as he knows his own name.

"Right. Let's play that game shall we? Uh, I just...imagined that there was a big ass wolf standing over there with a pair of shorts in its jaws that just so **happened** to blur into...you. Right? Want to try that again?" _Maybe add the part about the little red riding hood?_ his mouth wants to add, but he manages to swallow it down and shut up at the last second. _Shit_. His mouth keeps getting him into trouble, over and over. What he **should** have done was agree with the wolf. Instead he had challenged him. Mocked him.

God, he is so damn **stupid **sometimes.

At least he's not wearing a red hoodie. (He burned that after the first time he'd ended up...servicing Derek, ironically wearing that used-to-be-beloved garment. None of his remaining red clothes had made it out of Beacon Hills – and he hasn't replaced them. He's never replacing them, he thinks.)

The implications of what he's just done keeps crashing into him. He's "outed" himself as some in the know about the supernatural – and, as he should know, most members don't take kindly to humans knowing.

That had, after all, been one of the main complaints from the Alpha pack – maybe even the biggest one in the end. Stiles would have been killed outright within seconds of them finding out if not for Derek claiming him as belonging to the pack ("property" his mind injects, yet for once he hadn't minded it, not when it saved him. After had been a whole other story). They'd still tried, still meant to silence him permanently, only they'd been sneakier about it.

And now he's there again. He was given an out – and he really, really should have gone with the very credible excuse of drugs seeing as he usually **stinks** of his meds – and was too stupid to take it.

_Stupid, stupid, __**stupid**__. _Always so damn stupid.

His survival instincts has been shot to hell since moving here.

He'd be grateful – since it's because he hasn't needed them, because of over five months of peace – if not for the **survival** part.

Maybe though, maybe he can back-track, save this...

"I'm sorry, I must sound crazy. Werewolves?" he forces a chuckle, "Clearly I'm seeing things, I just... Hunger hallucinations? And I'm due for another dose of my meds just about..." he checks the time on his phone "ehm, 30 minutes ago. So I should probably get on that. Oh, and change reading materials, huh?" He tries for another chuckle, to support his words (which are all true, in a fashion, but) but fails. Spectacularly. He blames the way the wolf stares at him.

He's not getting out of this. Fuck. Again.

Something crosses the wolf's face – it looks...fond. Like Stiles just unwittingly reminded him of a favorite sister or something. It's immediately followed by careful determination.

"Look, don't panic, okay? I know it seems scary, but I'm not dangerous, not to you. I don't hurt humans, I swear. I'm a protector."

He can't help laughing.

"Afraid? You think I'm afraid of you? Good thing I never got out of the habit of carrying wolf's-bane." Seriously. There's a doctored can of mace, werewolf version, in his pocket at all times and his hand is already on its way out when the boy? man? replies.

"Wolf's-bane? What's that?"

**Then** he freaks out.

When he comes back to himself he's got his back against a tree, pressed so hard that he can feel the structure of the bark through his layers, his hands are held up in front of him as if trying to ward something – the wolf? reality? – off. The wolf, well, he's standing at a respectable distance, doing his best (or so Stiles assumes) to look harmless. _Puppy._

"Oh, fuck. Damn it." There's no real heat in his curses. He's rolled with the punches before, he can do it again. He'll have to.

Wolf's-bane doesn't work on this wolf – or his pack, if he has one. He looks too healthy to be an Omega though, so Stiles will act as if he does. The fact that the vunerability to wolf's-bane is different means he can't assume than anything else he's learned is true either. And **that** means he doesn't know how to keep himself – or his **dad** – safe.

His dad. Fuck. He's going to have to make a choice now. Go back to lying – his stomach lurches – or share the last of the secrets he's kept and hope his dad doesn't hate him for it. Or, you know, lock him up in some psych ward.

The laugh leaving his mouth is harsh and bitter. All this. All the lies, the sneaking around, the guilt... The risks he'd taken to insure that his dad stayed safe and out of it. All that, and now it's for nothing.

"What's wrong?"

"It's beginning to look like I'm going to have to tell my dad that werewolves are real. And I've been pretty much risking **everything** to avoid that particular hornets nest. So what do you **think** is wrong?"

The wolf stares at him. And stares some more.

"Normally people would freak out about the fact that werewolves are real, not about whether or not to tell anyone else."

"Yeah, well, you're not the first werewolf I've run into, okay? Piss me off enough and you won't even be the first one I kill."

Because he **has** killed a werewolf before, has taken a bat (made from rowan, soaked in wolf's bane infusion) and bashed in an Alpha's head, all the while praying that there was no way for a human pack member – which technically he'd been, no matter how unwillingly or how ambiguous his status – to become an Alpha.

(Either there wasn't, or he hadn't been pack enough. Still, he'd walked away just as human as before. He's cried himself to sleep from the gratitude more times than he can count. Doesn't change the fact that he still has nightmares though.)

Afterwards he'd disposed of the body, and pretended like nothing. It had worked surprisingly well. This is the first time he's even hinted at it to another person (yes, it's one of the few ugly secrets he still carries) and he curses his lack of a filter.

The man – yes, the wolf in front of him is definitely a man, not a boy – looks at him with surprise.

"You...killed a werewolf? **How?**"

"Yeah, **not** telling you that. Why? Is it really that hard to believe the puny little human killed a big bad wolf? I'll tell you one thing though: I didn't exactly sarcasm him to death."

Not for lack of trying though, but he doesn't say that. He's already saying too much, seeing as he's talking to a strange werewolf that is possibly (probably) immune against wolf's-bane. It could be that he simply just doesn't know about it, like Scott hadn't at first, but. He's not counting on it (And either way, neither option is reassuring.)

He can feel the after effects of his freak out, leaving him more than a little wobbly, and keeps leaning against the tree. It's not uncommon, unfortunately, but luckily it wasn't a full on panic attack. He'll get back to normal soon. He hopes.

The wolf gives him a calculating look, complete with a deep breath – _fuck werewolf noses, just...fuck them_ – and seems to come to some sort of decision.

"You should probably sit down – you're not looking too steady."

Of course he isn't. His life is being turned upside down again, and this time... This time he **knows** what it means. He hadn't when Scott was bitten, or when he first got on his knees for Derek. Now however he does know, and it's tearing him apart.

He's being half led, half pushed to a fallen log, and sits down without protest. He needs to breathe, to think, and maybe that will be easier if he doesn't have to focus on not falling down.

"You just.. Sit here, and calm down. Seriously, your heartbeat... I need to check something, and I have to phase to do it. Okay?"

"Phase"? Stiles isn't sure what he means, though a calculated guess would be shifting, but nods anyway. It's not like he has much of a choice. He's fast, agile, and much too used to running for his life. He's at a serious disadvantage here though. His wolf's-bane might not work, he doesn't know the terrain, he doesn't know exactly what this wolf is capable of, and he's pretty damn sure he's not going to escape from this until the wolf decides it's done with him.

So. Sitting down, shutting up – _don't think about that, don't think_ – and waiting.

Phasing does turn out to mean shifting. Into a real wolf. He averts his eyes slightly, as the guy pulls his shorts off, but once the transformation starts he allows himself to stare. It's probably not a good sign that he barely reacts to any of it.

There's no gradual transition, just a shimmering explosion that becomes a **mountain** of fur. There are no traces of the Beta shape he's used to, and luckily not of an Alpha form either. It's a regular wolf – just so much bigger. Its coat is a beautiful, glossy chocolate brown and its stance indicates strong focus.

Once the actual shift is done he's finding it hard to concentrate. Forget trying to come up with a plan. His thoughts are all over the place, and he can't seem to focus for shit.

And he really is hungry.

He's colder, much colder that he should be, surely, because it might be winter in Washington, but it's March and not even January was this bad. _Shock_ his brain tries to inform him, and he's sure that means something, should mean something, but the word doesn't really register through the fog his mind seems full of.

And then the wolf is human, and dressed, and serious again.

Time to try again. Something. **Anything**.

"Look. This has been...something. But I really need to get back now, so–"

"You can't leave." And the playfulness is gone, replaced by a look that, yes, is all predator.

And like stupid, stupid prey Stiles freezes, and his heart starts beating even faster. Right. _So much for the harmless protector then._ His brain, and his (by now) semi-finely honed survival instincts – that finally, _fucking finally_, decides it's needed again – kicks in again, and he starts analyzing the situation.

That is, after all, what has kept him alive since his first encounter with the supernatural: he is good at looking at his surroundings and coming up with solutions. He plans for the worst, adapts, and that's worked fine so far.

It helped him kill that Alpha, for instance.

His wolf's-bane mace might not be as effective as he's used to, as it's **meant** to, but it can still work as a distraction. Hopefully. Buy him some time to– There's a fallen branch to his left, that might function as a bat, and that rock over there–

"Calm down. Your heartbeat... It's deafening. You sound like you're going to have a heart attack. I'm not going to hurt you, I **swear**, you just can't leave **yet**, okay? The packs... Some of the others are coming, and we really need to talk to you."

More wolves. Meaning Stiles won't be making any kind of quick exit. He doesn't know why they're coming, or why they feel they need to talk to him – okay, so that's a lie, he totally gets **that** part – or how they know to come. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know any of it though, and that he doesn't get a choice.

And that's when the words register. Pack**s**. As in more that one.

Oh, he's so screwed.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything – except for a red hoodie...

Note: This is the last chapter that I have finished. From here on I'll be updating as soon as I can, but expect at least a week between chapters. (I'm aiming for no more than two weeks though.) When I post the next chapter I'll also be marking this as a crossover and add a third character.

**...As Stupid Does**

**part 3 of the Stupid 'verse**

**3/?**

He slumps down, feeling defeated and depleted. The wolf sits down next to him – not too close, but close enough to grab him should he try to run – and really, Stiles would move away, or protest, only he's so cold and the wolf radiates heat, and he doesn't really have the energy to do anything but try and soak that heat up. So he just **sits** there.

"So, what's your name? I'm Quil," the wolf offers.

Stiles doesn't answer. Partly because he doesn't want to give anything away, and he's too out of it to not, and partly because he's drained and needs to conserve energy for the confrontation he knows is coming.

The wolf – Quil – obviously picks up on Stiles' mood, because he doesn't push and doesn't try to talk again. They sit there, quiet, and just wait.

It's calming, maybe too much so, and Stiles is lulled into a strange state of peace where his mind is almost silent.

He could fall asleep like this.

He's not going to, because "suicidal" is not actually one of his many faults, but it would be so very easy. Too easy.

He sees the wolf turn slightly, a sign that something is happening – probably that the other wolves are coming, seeing as the guy is calm. It takes several more minutes though before Stiles sees anything. All courtesy of those dull human senses.

They come out from the trees without sound, and it looks damn impressive. Or, you know, it would if he wasn't being held under duress (more or less). Now they just represent something he doesn't want to be involved in, something he wants to just get away from.

There's three of them, all clearly from the same mold that made the one next to him: tall, muscular, native looking. He can't help wonder if they're related, or if the likeness is due to them being native, or wolves. It could be a little of all three, he supposes.

He studies them, in the same way he studied the first and that they are studying him, and he soon starts seeing a pattern. There's at least two packs, and he's willing to bet that out of the new arrivals one – taller and leaner than the first wolf, but not the biggest of the three – share a pack with with the wolf standing next to Stiles, while the two others share a pack.

One of them, the tallest, towering over all of them – and Stiles has never felt this short before, because shut up, 5'10" is a fully respectable height for a 17 year old guy – is obviously an Alpha. He radiates power, in the same way as the Alpha Stiles had killed (the way Derek had never quite managed – which Stiles feels is rather telling). He can read that power. Stiles swallows. He can **see** the Alpha's power. That's...new. And disturbing. Very, very disturbing.

"Sam."

"Quil."

Men of few words, huh? So not ready for the full Stiles experience then. (He's not either, but.) Still, even those two words tells him a lot. It gives him the Alpha's name – Sam – as well as the fact that this Sam almost certainly isn't **Quil's** Alpha. There's respect there, and a bond of sorts, but not, Stiles thinks, a full pack bond.

Looking closely at Sam there are nothing physical to suggest he's any older than the other three, but at the same time he carries an air around him that suggests he is. Stiles' final observation, before moving on, is that he seems to be a good Alpha. The way Quil responds to him supports that theory.

The one assuming the position of Sam's Second has a sneer plastered over his face, and looks dangerous. Quil might be the protector he claimed to be, but this one? This one is a killer. And all too willing, it seems, to kill Stiles.

The third guy stands next to Quil. His body language and position hints at him having the higher rank, yet being a friend first. But. There's something about the wolf, or rather about the way he **stares** at Stiles, that is unnerving. He averts his eyes, and looks for something else to focus on.

With four wolves to compare Stiles realizes that he can, in fact, see the difference in power in them. Sam outshines the others, as an Alpha should, and Quil has none at all. (He has something though, something Stiles thinks might be magic, that all four share.) As for the one that stares and the one that sneers, they're about equal. If he had to, he'd hazard a guess that Sneer Wolf has higher rank, but he's pretty sure that Stare Wolf has more power.

Huh.

There's something there, he knows it, but right now his mind isn't working with him. Chances are there's something there – he's usually right about these kind of things – but it's equally possible that it's something he doesn't have (and probably never will have) all the pieces to turn into an understandable picture.

Plus, he's got more important things to think – and worry – about. Such as how the Alpha looks at him. It's as if he's trying to take Stiles apart and examine each piece until he knows exactly what makes Stiles tick. He doesn't like it. It reminds him too much of Derek.

It's not the same, no – Sam doesn't look at him like a piece of meat, or ass – but it's still almost as terrifying as how Derek used to look at him and that makes his stomach turn.

He pulls on his reserves, on that inner core of strength and sheer dumb stubbornness that's kept him alive so many times before, and tries to ready himself for what's to come. Push comes to shove he'll play the dad card. Even the Alpha pack at their most rabid had (mostly) been hesitant to give an officer of the law a personal reason to hunt them down. Hopefully these wolves will have the same sense of self preservation.

There's no feeling that this is a life or death situation though, and that means his body – and mind – won't let him use those reserves fully. Means he needs to get this over and done with quickly, as he won't be good for any kind of confrontation, fast talking himself out of anything, or well, anything at all for much longer. He fidgets slightly. Maybe that's what they're waiting for, for him to break? If that's the case it won't take long.

"Quil tells me you know about werewolves, and that it seems to be first-hand knowledge." Quil had told him, huh? Now, Stiles might not have wolfy senses, but he's pretty sure he did **not** miss any kind of conversation between them. Meaning Quil must have somehow "told" the Alpha this while shifted. _Interesting... _"Tell me about it. Starting, I think, with your name and where you first ran into werewolves."

It's not a command, not exactly but it's clear that this Sam expects Stiles to comply. He's used to being obeyed. Total Alpha.

Too bad Stiles doesn't do well with people going Alpha on him.

"How about no?"

All four of them stare at him like he's said something outrageous – and he guesses that to a pack (or two, but who's counting?) of werewolves the thought of a human denying the Alpha something is exactly that. Doesn't change how he feels.

Sneer Wolf looks even more ready to attack, to grab Stiles and **shake** the answers out of him, but the Alpha luckily remains calm. If that changes Stiles will take his chances with the wolf's-bane mace. It most likely won't work, but. He'll go down fighting.

Sam doesn't **seem** like he's going to get violent though. Instead he looks at Stiles in that trying-to-analyze-your-basic-components way again, and then does something wholly unexpected. He softens. He visibly relaxes and tries to make himself seem less threatening. It would probably work too, if Stiles hadn't seen the same behavior before. In Erica, before she knocked him out with a part of his jeep. In Peter. In Derek. It only serves to make Stiles even more nervous, and stiff.

When Sam speaks again his voice is softer too, as if he thinks Stiles will respond better to being treated like he's about to break. (Yeah, okay, so he **is**, but that's not important now.)

"You need to understand, we're protectors. When something – or some**one** – is a potential threat to that? We need to make sure. And with you claiming to have killed a werewolf–" He is cut of by a snarl, a very feral sounding snarl, from his Second and Stiles tenses. These guys don't even know the circumstances, and would, if they really **are** "protectors", have done the same themselves. And yet he has no doubt when it comes to the angry Second's willingness to rip out Stiles' throat (with his teeth, most likely) for doing so.

Nothing happens though. Sam twists his head, looks at his Second and then focuses on Stiles again. Great. Time to break out the small words. He channels his dad the best he can, straightens his back and looks Sam straight in the eyes.

"What **you** need to understand is that I. Don't. Want. To. Be. Involved. Seriously. I have no desire whatsoever to interfere, or be a threat. All I wanted was a quiet walk away from all the bragging about who's caught the biggest fish. That's all." Of course, he should have avoided the forest. Bad shit always happens to Stiles in forests. Always. "I wasn't looking for an invite to the supernatural club. I just want a boring, normal life. Okay?"

_Deep breaths, focus, hope for the best._

"So how about we all forget this ever happened and go our separate ways?"

It's a long-shot, he knows it, but there is something about this Sam that suggests it might not be completely hopeless. He holds his breath as the Alpha opens his mouth, only to feel the air rush out of him like he's been punched in the stomach when another voice interrupts.

"Sam?"

They both turn and stare. Well, **Stiles** stares, open-mouthed. Sam has more of an inquisitive, lifted-eyebrow look going on. It's Quil, and the way **he** looks... It's incredulous, like he's seen a ghost or something (or, you know, a werewolf – if he was a normal person) and something tells Stiles it doesn't bode well for him.

"That...might not be a good idea. Just, look," and he nods towards Stare Wolf.

Stiles looks, but can't see anything worthy of interference. Of course, he doesn't **know** this wolf, so he could be missing any number of things. It's just...the guy just stands there, okay? And stares. At Stiles. He's acting the same way he has since arriving, so why bother now? What about his behavior made Quil think he needed to stop any possibility of Stiles walking away?

Whatever it is, he can't see it. He's the only one though, or so it seems. Sam and his Second are both staring at the wolf, wearing matching incredulous looks, and they're making Stiles nervous.

Nervous enough to start babbling, and scrambling for ways out of this.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, okay? I can keep a secret, you really don't have to worry about me."

He might **want** to tell at least his father, and (if he can find a way that won't trigger any alarms or cause a panicked visit) maybe Scott, but when push comes to shove? Stiles is a pragmatist. Getting away from the werewolves in one piece, and without getting pulled into any more supernatural shit is his number one priority. Of course, he **could** just promise, and then tell anyway, but.

He really doesn't want to make a promise with the intention of breaking it. Not because they're werewolves and would most likely be able to either hear the lie in his heartbeat, or sniff it out, or **something**, but because he's trying to be a better person.

The fact that telling his dad might damage their relationship again, and irreparably this time, either because his dad realizes that this is what Stiles has been lying about or because he will think he's on drugs or mentally ill? Yeah.

Totally doesn't factor in. At all. And _does werewolves know when you're lying to yourself as well, even if you're not doing it out loud?_ Damn it, it doesn't look like promises will help.

Of course, his usual luck seems to be at work, and the Alpha doesn't seem like he's going to let Stiles go any longer. Whatever it is that had Quil interfering, that made them act so surprised? Is big. Most likely bad too. And that? Gives him exactly one ace to play, with no guarantee it'll work.

"Look, I'm guessing you guys don't like attention. And unless I get back soon? There will be **lots** of attention. Maybe even a manhunt. Because my dad? Love the man to pieces, but he's prone to overreacting when it comes to me. Also, he's a cop."

There. Now, if he's read them right they'll let him go. If he's wrong... Well, if he's wrong then he doesn't know he'd rather they leave enough of him to identify or not.

He doesn't expect the relieved smile on the Alpha's face though.

"He down there with Charlie Swan?"

He can just stare. _Huh?_ The snicker coming from the volatile one reminds him to close his mouth, but it doesn't help him not to feel stupid. Stiles does **not** like feeling stupid. In his defense, though, it's not like they're giving him that much to work with.

_I wonder if that's a wolf trait, an Alpha trait or just plain dumb bad luck?_

"Your father? You said he's a cop, right? Is he here fishing, with some other policemen? With Forks' chief of police, Charlie Swan, to be more precise?"

Oh. Okay. He can answer that – now that he knows what the question is.

"He's here fishing, yes, and there are a bunch of other cops too. I don't know about a Charlie Swan though. It rings a bell, but... Could be from this weekend, could be from any time during the last month. I didn't pay that much attention to **names**."

He hadn't. He'd focused on the essentials, and names was not one of those. Who is trained in CPR, who is responsible for the food and who to let know what his dad needs to avoid, **those** things he does know.

Something obviously clues them in on at least part of what he's thinking, and _great, I really need to get my guard back up again_ the snickering stops.

"Right. Chances are he is – there's unlikely to be **two** fishing parties made up out of cops here at the same time. Here's how we'll do this. I'll go down with you, as will Embry, and we'll talk to Charlie. He'll clue your dad in."

"This guy a wolf?" It feels wrong, even if he can see the practical value in it – except for during the full moon – but. Maybe it's the thought of Derek as an officer of the law, or worse: Peter.

He'd rather have Chris Argent in command, which is a very scary and very telling thing.

"No, he just... He's in the know."

"Okay. I get you coming, being an Alpha and everything, but why Embry? And which one is 'Embry' again?"

He'd have thought that the first guy he met, Quil the almost-puppy, would have been a natural choice, at least if they're trying to keep him calm, making why an important question. _Unless..._ And his stomach clenches.

Of course (because it's his life, right?) the Alpha indicates Stare Wolf – and Stiles' stomach plunges, because this cannot be good – and then hesitates. Something about the way he does so makes Stiles think it's more about finding the right words than about not answering. Hint: he does **not** find the right words.

"Does the word 'imprint' mean anything to you?"

It doesn't, not really, except that he's reminded of biology class and baby ducklings, and **holy fuck, he's talking about mates!** And just like that Stiles proceeds to have the mother of all panic attacks.

~TBC ~


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything – except for a red hoodie...

**...As Stupid Does**

**part 3 of the Stupid 'verse**

**4/?**

He has, of course, come across the concept of mates before. He's a researcher, okay, and well. Scott and Allison. The way his best friend had acted towards the huntress had suggested that mates actually might be a thing – and once he'd gotten..."involved" with Derek he'd feared it.

So. He'd manipulated Scott into asking Derek about it. (Yes, it had been wrong to use his friend like that, but unlike asking himself it had also been **safe**.) The brush-off from Derek had caused Scott to mope for two solid weeks, but had calmed Stiles a little. It hadn't helped completely, no, but he'd still been able to breathe somewhat easier.

Of course, the more possessive Derek had become, the more Stiles had begun to fear that werewolves did, in fact, have mates, and Scott had just misunderstood. Or been lied to. Or that maybe there was a difference between born and bitten wolves, and he still wasn't off the hook.

He'd worried enough to actually track down and corner **Peter**, an experience that was better left in the past. Really. The way Peter had looked at him... Yeah. Not something Stiles had been eager to revisit anytime soon. Or, you know, ever.

Still. Both Hales had agreed: no on the werewolf mates. Except apparently that wasn't true for **these** particular wolves. Of course not. Because that might actually have meant Stiles catching a break.

Because "imprinting"? Sure sounds a hell of a lot like being mated, **like Stiles being trapped**, and it freaks him the fuck out. Well, that and it makes him sick to his stomach.

"Fuck that. I'm not gonna be no werewolf bitch."

It's not the least bit diplomatic, and more than a little offensive he guesses, but. He. Doesn't. Care. At all. The one thing that matters is that he not get forced into another "relationship" with a wolf. Or well, someone – anyone – who can treat him like Derek did.

He can sense the wolf in question, Embry, tense up by his side. (And no, he really doesn't want to examine that statement any closer, or think about **why** the wolf is tense, thank you very much.) He can also see something in the Alpha's eyes, something like understanding and pity. Neither reaction gets to be dealt with though, seeing as the one whose name he doesn't know, the one that has seemed on edge and angry since his arrival, attacks.

"What, you think you're too good for him? Trying to pretend you're straight? News flash, twink. It's not like you're going to–"

"**Paul**." Just one word, but that's all that's needed. It's an Alpha order of some kind, Stiles is pretty sure, reminiscent of Derek roaring Isaac into submission at the sheriff's station _and why the fuck does his mind keep going back to Derek because he doesn't want to think about Derek doesn't need to think about Derek doesn't need to be reminded _but different, in so many ways.

Stiles can hear the power in that one word, like he could with the roar, but there's more. He can **see** it. The tone vibrates, and creates an echo in the part of Stiles that created the mountain ash circle. Magic then.

Good to know. He should probably be freaking out again, but he's not. Once again, he doesn't want to think about why, and what it means, he's just happy that he's not. Not freaking out again means he might still be able to find a way out of this with his skin – and ass – intact.

What he **is**, however, is going to correct some assumptions. Starting now.

"Look here, asshole. My sexuality, which is **none of your fucking business** by the way, has nothing to do with this. Neither has the fact that he's a wolf, if your next move was going to be calling me a specieist. I just have no intention whatsoever of being his, or anyone else's for that matter, bitch. End of story."

"I'm my own person, I'm not fucking property and no amount of 'mate' bullshit is going to change that. I'm not going to let anyone control me. I'm not one of you – I don't **want** to be one of you – nor do I belong to one of you, and I honestly don't give a shit about what **he**," and he jerks his head in Embry's direction, "wants or needs. Get it, furface?"

He refuses to acknowledge the hurt obvious on his supposed mate's face. This isn't about the other guy, or how he might feel. This is about the fact that Stiles suddenly feels as if he's fighting for his life. And yeah, okay, it might also be about the fact that he never said any of this to Derek, never said any of the things he should have. Keeping quiet now seems almost impossible.

They all look shocked. Like **they** are the ones who just got their lives hijacked. Stiles... Well, he's not proud of it, definitely not, but he hates them more than a little for it. This is about **him**, dammit. And if they make it about **them**, makes it about their pack... Chances are they aren't even going to try and help him then.

He feels too vulnerable, sitting down while they tower over him, but he doesn't have the energy to stand. If it came down to it, if it meant life or death, then he'd (probably) be able to dig into his reserves and run for it, but. Unfortunately the prospect of becoming a werewolf's bitch doesn't seem to qualify according to his body and mind. Not at the moment though. (Give him some time and it will. It has to.)

So he sits there, and finds himself wishing that Quil was still sitting next to him. Yes, he'd felt caged by the wolf's presence, aware that any attempt to escape would be stopped in seconds, but he'd also been warm. Now he's cold again, and that's not doing any wonders for him. (Then again, what in this situation **is**?)

Sam's face is stoic – Stiles suspects it's his default expression – but his eyes are mild and a little worried. There's compassion there, and Stiles hates it. It feels too much like pity, and like something that has nothing to do with him. Sam's only caring because he thinks Stiles belongs to his pack mate. Right?

He can feel his features arranging themselves into the "get on with it" expression he used to have at least three times a day back when he also had **Scott** at least three times a day, his body following along, and it's only the fuck-ton of practice he's gotten that keeps his mouth from joining in.

Doesn't mean he's not heard. Loud and clear.

Sam hears him, alright. Even almost smiles a little, just a hitch in the corner of his mouth, sure, but still. It's a break in all the doom and gloom, and Stiles **needs** that. Not as much as he needs to get out, but he'll take what he can.

"I'm sorry to keep you out here any longer, but there are a few things I think we should discuss before we go back, things that might be easier to talk about without your father around."

He doesn't understand what – or why – because he thinks he's been obvious about wanting to talk to his dad. Too obvious, and much too willing to **spill**. So he keeps just looking at Sam, and waits.

"I'm sorry to push, but... The way you talk, the way you act? It screams abuse. Now, before we bring him in on this I just want to make sure–"

"You think my **dad** would hurt me? No. He'd kill for me, die for me, sure. Not hurt me. Never that."

At least, he admits to himself, never physically. There has been a number of instances over the years with emotional hurt – but then that goes both ways. It also has to do with his mom, and the way they both miss her like crazy, and a little with his dad's job. Whatever, it's not what Sam's looking for though.

"Good. Then..."

"Look. I've had my share of bad experiences, okay? That doesn't equal abuse."

Because it doesn't. He knows how jumpy he is, knows how easily triggered he is when it comes to werewolves, but that doesn't make Sam's assumptions correct. Most of his werewolf issues are related to Peter, or the Alpha pack, and none of that was abuse. It was terror, and mortal peril, and fear of being bitten against his will, but not abuse.

And he really, really doesn't want to think of what happened between him and Derek as that either. Not when he was halfway in love with the sourly Alpha long before he ended up in his bed, and not when he never said no. (The fact that he was never sure if he **could** say no is also something he doesn't want to think about. And that still doesn't make it abuse, just a poorly negotiated deal. **Really** poorly negotiated.)

Derek was a shitty Alpha, and tended to be a rough lover. But. Stiles still can't see him as abusive. He had never gone out of his way to seriously damage or harm Stiles, had in fact done the opposite on more than one occasion. Every mark on Stiles' body had come either from Derek trying to make a point, or teach him a lesson, or from the wolf forgetting exactly how much more fragile than him Stiles was. And that? That wasn't exactly a Derek exclusive – all of the wolves did that, at times, even Scott. And unlike Scott Derek had never tried to kill him, so...

With a few exceptions being with Derek had been less damaging than playing lacrosse with a still human Jackson.

(And no, he isn't defending the Alpha, he's just...being selectively honest, maybe. Still doesn't make him a victim of abuse.)

"Look, it's great that you care, but I'm not an abuse victim, okay. All kinds of shit tends to happen when you're a human running with wolves. So, what is it that we need to talk about before I'm allowed to get out of this damned forest?"

"Okay. First of all, imprinting. You're right, it's about mates. It's supposed to be rare – yet out of us here? When we walked into this clearing Embry was the only one not to have imprinted." Okay, that makes their shock a little more acceptable then. But.

"Also, it's meant to be a gift to the wolf from the spirits," and wow, he really sounds like he means that. Stiles isn't used to people being religious, or spiritual, with the exception of the odd wannabe witch. (Which doesn't really count, okay.) Sam's talk about spirits...is unsettling, honestly, mostly because of how ill equipped Stiles is to deal with it. "It is supposed to be about finding your perfect mate, your second half. And this is where the problem lies. Embry isn't gay." And yeah, there it is.

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised at how many guys say that just to avoid the shit storm, only to sing a different tune in private." Really. If he'd gotten a dollar for every supposedly straight guy who's approached him – or Danny back when in Beacon Hills – for a little "something something" while not wanting anyone to know? Screw worrying about scholarships, that's how many. "Plus, with how your Second just reacted, that statement seems more than a little hypocritical, wouldn't you agree?"

"You don't understand. You **can't** understand. I'm sure you're right, in principle, but not here. When I say Embry isn't gay, I'm not just parroting some line he's fed me, or some prejudice. It's because I **know** he isn't."

"That would be a 'yes' on the hive mind then," Stiles comments, more to himself than to the wolves. They pick it up anyway, naturally, because he's gotten out of the habit to watch out for supernatural hearing. And yes, Sneer Wolf growls. And sneers. Of course.

"We call it a pack mind, but essentially you're right. I'm guessing you understand the implications of that? Then you should understand when I say that I've seen what's inside Embry, I know his thoughts and his feelings as well as he does on some accounts, and he's never been attracted to a man."

"For him to imprint on you, under those circumstances, is...unsettling. I would not have thought it possible."

And this shit just keeps getting better. Not only does Stiles now have a 6-feet-huge werewolf – a wolf who has not just one but **two** packs backing him up about it – thinking Stiles is his mate, but he's gotten one that doesn't even like guys. Meaning chances are he'll be pissed about it and looking to take it out on someone. On **Stiles**, because that's how it works, isn't it?

Yeah, he'd definitely say it's "unsettling". That's a very good description of the situation. Of course, Stiles would probably go a little further than that, but with how he doesn't have that much energy to spare at the moment, he'll take it.

He tries to not think of Derek and what happened between them these days, tries really hard – he wants peace, okay, in every sense of the word – but once upon a time he did. He spent hours on trying to understand the wolf, in an attempt to figure out as much as he could about Derek's issues – just one of the many ways he'd tried to make their arrangement as easy as possible on himself. And yes, okay, it was also because he had feeling for the sourly Alpha.

He never did understand why Derek did most of the things he had – still doesn't – but he'd managed to formulate a couple of theories. One of them had been that Derek was pissed about wanting to have sex with a guy. That he'd punished **Stiles** for that want, as if it had somehow been his fault that Derek was having those urges.

It was a valid theory back then, and unfortunately now it's looking like a valid theory for how his life's going to look like in the future. Because honestly? Stiles can protest all he wants to, and will, but he's realistic enough to know that **his** wants will play a very little role in what comes.

He pales, and feels his body trying to make itself as small as possible. Trying to become a smaller target.

The guy is a werewolf. There are another three present, and at least one more – Quil and Embry's Alpha – somewhere. And he doesn't know how to fight them.

That leaves him with two options: running or **taking** it. He doesn't think he can take it, not again, but running... He doesn't know how to explain to his dad that they need to leave, again, not without exposing werewolves and quite possibly have his dad try to kill someone. And then...then there's the fact that if this wolf really do see Stiles as his mate, then he's not going to give up. Unlike Derek he'll hunt Stiles down – he still doesn't fully believe he's actually gotten away, doesn't fully trust that Derek won't just **show up** one day, and he wasn't Derek's **mate **–andit won't be pretty.

His mind is racing, half-formed plans showing up and disappearing again just as quickly, and he needs something, anything.

Once more he's reduced to the state of fear and panic that had him begging Derek for pack rights and protection – that landed him on his knees. He doesn't want to end up that way again. He won't crawl. Won't give up himself and his body again.

He'll beg though. It might not help, but he's willing to try.

"Please..."

Hearing how weak he sounds (it's only the fact that the others are werewolves that makes his shaky voice reach their ears) Stiles thinks there's no way they'll listen to him. Why would they? It's survival of the fittest, and Stiles is **weak**, pack-less. Omega.

"Please? Please what? Please help you? Why?"

"You clearly don't want to accept Embry – and that means **torturing** him. You talk about not wanting to get involved, and yet you've obviously **been** involved. 'Runs with wolves', you said. So why should we believe a single word that comes out of your mouth? Why should we help you? Why should we trust someone who claims to have **killed** one of our kind, and sounds more than willing to do it again?"

It's the angry one, Paul?, again and this time Sam doesn't interfere. (Embry tenses though, as does Quil – who's also got a hand on his pack mate, ready to hold him back.) Stiles guesses that he understands it – they all have to be worried about it, he knows he would. Doesn't mean he's going to let it slide without defending himself. He's not got much energy, but he's got enough for this. He **has to** have enough for it.

"First of all, yeah, I've killed a werewolf. Well, one and a half, I guess," because he was definitely involved enough in Peter's death for that. "And I'd do the same again, in those circumstances. I was protecting myself, and the people I love, which you should understand, right? Seeing as you claim to be 'Protectors'."

"Second, if it was up to me I'd still be blissfully ignorant. You think I **wanted** to get caught up in the supernatural bullshit? Newsflash, asshole: you just can't always get what you want."

"When your best friend gets bitten by the local psycho and turns into a furry CGI monster you set those wishes aside, and you step up and **you** **deal**. You make sure he survives. You make sure that **everyone else** survives – that he gains enough control to not kill anyone."

"You do that, because he's your **brother** in every way that matters, and it doesn't matter if it lands you in detention, or if your grades slip, or if you get beaten up. You just deal."

"And if **you** don't possess the basic humanity needed to **get** that, then I pity you."

He's said too much again, his filter completely shot to hell. Though it does seem as if he's managed to shut Sneer Wolf up, at least for now.

He'll count that as a win, that is, he will once he actually has the energy to care.

Right now though? His Adderall really **is** wearing off, he's tired, cold and hungry, and his lack of a filter is the last of his concerns. Everything that's happened is getting to him, and he's about to crash. Hard.

The log he's sitting on shifts and creaks as two huge bodies sit down next to him. Not too close, their bodies doesn't touch his, but enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from them. Oh. He soaks it up, revels in it, and can feel his brain getting back towards the right track again.

His focus improves too, second by second, and he begins to feel human again. Maybe it's the warmth. _Or maybe it's because his imprint, his wolf, is sitting so close._ The reason doesn't matter, not now at least, just the result.

"So what now?"

He doesn't want a werewolf mate, but he seems to have one anyway – and his body seems to be more accepting of that fact than his mind or his heart. He can deal, at least until he's gotten some food and meds into his _body, because he has to, okay, he just has to _but only if he knows exactly what he's dealing with.

(And if he's also going to need that information to try and find a way out of this? Well, that's his secret, isn't it?)

"Well–"

"Sorry, Sam. I just... Look," and the wolf _Embry_ turn towards him and gives him a small smile and honest eyes, "I understand that this has to be confusing and difficult for you, but do you think you could trust us, trust **me** a little? Just enough to maybe tell me your name?"

And yeah, he still hasn't done that, has he? Every reason for not telling them feels so distant now – after all, they can find him without it now that they know how to find his dad. Plus, by now they **have** to have his scent memorized. That is, unless they're all morons.

"I'm Stiles."

"Hi Stiles. I'm Embry, as you might have picked up, and I'm a werewolf."

_Going for humor. Under different circumstances I could...approve of that._

"This feels really weird for me. For you too, huh? Well, maybe you'll feel a little better once I explain all this imprinting business a little more. But first off, you need to know that none of us will hurt you. I **promise** I won't hurt you, and the others won't either. I would never let them – and neither would the part that makes them pack."

Except how not all of them were, at least not the same one, but maybe that didn't matter.

"But. If I was you I'd be looking at Paul now, looking at how he's been acting, thinking 'that guy's full of it' and if you do, I get that. The thing about Paul though? He likes to come off as this Big Bad Wolf, and yeah, he's a hothead, always has been. Seriously. He used to explode with anger – literally – on a daily basis. Ruined more clothes than any three of us put together. He still has a mouth on him, and a temper, but he's changed."

"The thing most people don't see though, for obvious reasons, is how loyal he is to the pack. To the tribe, really. And when he comes home? He sheaths the claws, puts the wolf away, and becomes...well, not a lapdog, I guess," and Stiles cracks a small smile at the though of the sneering, violent wolf as a little chihuahua (he imagines him complete with pink bow and all) and Embry shares it with him while someone growls in the background, "but domesticated at least."

"You know why? It's because of Rachel, his imprint. She wouldn't have him any other way, and that meant he practically **had** to change. Being what the imprint needs is the most important thing in the world to the wolf, and the human, and if that means changing, then we change. It's that easy."

Stiles is willing to bet it's really not that easy, not when push comes to shove (for Paul to be even close to tame must have taken an almost Herculean effort) but he gets the picture. He still has questions though, and for some reason he feels comfortable asking them of Embry.

"So he what? Ran into some girl, and bam, instantly fell in love and next thing you know they were living together?"

"Not exactly. He imprinted at once, yes – that's how it happens. The first time we look into their eyes, after phasing. It wasn't smooth sailing though. She didn't like his attitude, as I said, and he worked hard to become the kind of man she'd accept. It took time, but now they're married and happy."

"It was sort of the same for Sam, while for Jared – who's not here – it happened a little more like you described it, except for how they wouldn't live together at 16."

Which yeah, made sense. And with **Stiles** just being 17, it also felt a little reassuring. As in, he might be forced to accept a werewolf mate, but at least the wolf wouldn't try and force him to shack up at once. The fact that Embry spoke of the imprint's happiness as something very important also calmed him – maybe he'd actually get a say in things after all.

"Quil however, for him imprinting worked a little differently. Now, I'm going to ask you to not be judgmental, okay? Because while what I'm about to tell you might sound bad, it's not. It's not ideal, but it's not bad."

"Quil's imprint is Claire, and she's the sweetest little thing. He first saw her almost seven years ago, and she's had him wrapped around her finger ever since. They're not a couple though – and this is why I asked you to keep an open mind. It's because Claire is only eight."

Stiles can't help it. He's the son of a cop okay, and has had more lectures on what's right and wrong and legal than most people four times his age. Words like pedophilia and grooming run through his head before he manages to suppress them – but he does, and he thinks he might even have succeeded to keep those thoughts off his face. Of course, he's judging Quil – or their spirits, maybe – but he's smart enough to know what he can and cannot do.

They have a cop in the know, though, and that means that unless the guy's a rotten apple he'll put a stop to anything too fucked up. And if he is? Then John Stilinski will find out and take him down – and then **he** will put a stop to it. One way or another. And Stiles will help him.

So he just nods and waits for Embry to go on.

"I'm not saying he's not going to feel that way about her in ten years, but today? When Quil looks at Claire he doesn't see a 'mate', a future wife. He sees someone he loves, sure, but it's more like a big brother. And just as with the others that's because it's what **she** needs."

"I wouldn't put this on you so soon, but there's a good reason. I can tell how much you don't want this, don't want a mate, and I understand. I do. None of **us** wanted to imprint. None of us wanted to deal with what that meant. And I get that it's worse for you. But, unlike me you can walk away. If you decide that you want nothing to do with me, then I have to accept that. It'd be hard, but I'd try – because it would make you happy."

"I promise you. If you want to walk away no one will stop you," and the words are obviously meant just as much for the others, as Embry turns his head slightly to meet their eyes.

"But. I'm hoping you won't. You don't want to be a 'werewolf's bitch' and you'll never have to be. Sam told you I'm not attracted to guys, and that's true. I don't see you that way. I don't understand how this happened, or why, but when I look at you? I see what Quil sees when he looks at Claire. I see a brother."

"Neither of us wants a mate. But I have a feeling we could both use another friend. You spoke of your best friend, your almost-brother. I can't be him. I can't replace him. But... Maybe I could be someone like him?"

Huh. It sounds too good to be true, like everything he could ever have hoped for in this situation, and his first instinct is to call it a lie. But Embry looks so earnest, so hopeful, and Stiles can't help but feel his heart clench. A big brother? That...that he could more than deal with. **That** he could even grow to love. And so he takes that careful first step, praying that he's not doing something irrevocably stupid.

"We could try?"

His voice is quiet, small, and he's sure his hesitance is showing. Doesn't matter. The smile it brings to Embry's face is like looking at the sun, and it shines in his heart as well.

It feels like home.

Please note that I'll be officially making this a cross-over during the weekend.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything – except for a red hoodie...

_AN: While I don't want to put any spoilers in here I feel the need to point out that Derek is still listed as a character for a reason, which is **not** his constant presence in Stiles' head._

**...As Stupid Does**

**part 3 of the Stupid 'verse**

**5/?**

They walk back to the fishing camp slowly – Stiles is pretty sure it's for his benefit, and he's not complaining. Embry looks like he'd sweep Stiles up for a piggy back ride or something if he thought even for a second he'd get away with it. (He so wouldn't. Stiles would like to keep **some** of his dignity, thank you very much. Maybe some other time though – he knows how Scott can run, and trying it out this way might be fun.)

Instead he walks on Stiles' left side, just a little too close, while Quil does the same on his right.

Sam and Paul walk a few steps behind the, and jeez, this must look ridiculous. It feels like he's got his own secret service detail – minus the snazzy suits and the ear pieces – and Stiles doesn't know what to think.

This kind of protection could have come in handy at times, yeah, but now? His life since coming to Port Angeles has been disgustingly safe – he hasn't led such a boring life in **years**.

It's obvious that Sam still has a lot of questions. It's equally obvious that he's deferring to Embry, who's apparently decided that Stiles has had enough. Which he totally has. Answers can **wait**, Embry says, and Jake – **his** Alpha – can do this.

Great.

Stiles doesn't protest, not any of it. He might be relatively okay with all of this, but he doesn't know any of these wolves. And even if he's beginning to feel as if he can trust Embry – which might or might not be an effect of the imprint and him accepting it – there's still the fact that not all secrets are meant to be shared. Or are **his** to share.

There's also the fact that thanks to the pack mind telling Embry anything means telling **all** of them, and that's more than he's comfortable with right now. Finally there's the suspicion that some of the things Stiles has to share might send Embry into a rage, make him want to hunt down Derek and **hurt** him.

Stiles is surprisingly un-okay with this. For all the reasons. And that means that whatever bad things he's going to have to tell Embry needs to wait until either Stiles has enough of a handle on Embry and the imprint to know how to stop him, or this Jake is there to do it for him.

Or, you know, he could never mention them. He's okay with never, ever talking about anything having to do with him and Derek outside of strictly pack-related things, where Derek is the Alpha and Stiles is Scott's annoying human best friend.

Thinking of Derek is easier now than it has been, well, ever. That doesn't mean much though, because it still hurts, still makes him confused, and it definitely doesn't mean he wants to talk about it. All it means is that thoughts of Derek isn't making Stiles feel like his soul's been used for target practice, or as if he's bordering on a panic attack. That's all.

He suspects that this too is a side effect of the imprint, because that's the only thing that's changed, and grudgingly admits that he's happy about it. The last thing Stiles needs is to feel like crap, and anything that keeps that away is a plus in his book. Even if it comes courtesy of a werewolf.

His dad'll–

And oh. His dad. His **cop** dad, who owns a large number of shotguns and–

"Embry? What's the plan here? Because I don't think I'm going to be much good for anything else today. And once my dad spots me... Let's just say things could get ugly real fast."

That's the understatement of the year. Seriously. John Stilinski has always had a protective streak a mile wide, but since leaving Beacon Hills it's tripled. At least. Coupled with the reasons Stiles gave for wanting to leave... Embry will probably look very suspect, and if he as much as **breathes** a word about "mates" things won't just get ugly – they'll get bloody.

And if they do? Well, the chances of a bunch of cops not backing one of their own up for hurting a huge older guy who'd gone after said cop's underage kid? Yeah right. As long as it stayed at just hurting, and nothing permanent, that's not going to happen. Speaking of permanent...

"Uh... If my dad shoots you, you'll heal, right?" And that's probably not the right thing to say, judging from the looks he's receiving, but he needs to be sure. He doesn't **think** his dad will shoot Embry – for one, he shouldn't have a gun with him on this trip – but Stiles is aware of exactly how little that "think" is worth. The whole mate and werewolf business makes things unpredictable.

The nod he receives calms him a little though.

"We'll talk to Charlie Swan, fill him in, get some input. Then I guess it'd be best to talk to your dad tomorrow? If you want to, that is, because **no one** will bring your dad into this without your say so," and there's steel in Embry's voice, "but I think it'd be easier. For everyone."

"You shouldn't have to lie about any of this," and there's something there, something not connected to Stiles, "and hopefully telling him everything will make him more receptive to you spending time with me, and with the pack."

And oh, right, Embry's going to want to spend time with him, is going to want to introduce Stiles to his pack and have them interact. He feels a frisson of fear go through him – because hanging out with a pack does not carry good memories – and almost allows himself to succumb to panic.

Then he pushes the thought down. Embry is **not** Derek. In any way. His pack members are **not** Isaac or Boyd or Danny or even Erica – even if she'd been gone by the time he'd "become pack".

At least, Quil is not like any of them, though he guesses he'll have to reserve judgment on the others – because while they might all be as easy going as Quil, they could just as easily be like Paul. And Paul, well. No matter what Embry's said about him being a good guy he reminds Stiles of Jackson and Isaac in all the worst ways.

_At least I'm not expected to share a pack with him..._

"Stiles?"

"Huh? Yeah, sorry, just...caught up in" _bad_ "memories."

"It's fine, that happens. Are you okay with us talking to your dad?"

"Yeah. I haven't told him any of this, about werewolves being real, or–" _Do not mention killing, just...don't_ "Anything. I didn't want him to get involved. But if you want to be able to get within five miles of me without him threatening to shoot you he's got to know."

And well, not lying **would** feel good. He'd be able to let go of the last lies, the last secrets – or most of them anyway – and he **needed** that.

"Okay, are you okay with us doing it tomorrow then? You'll be rested, Charlie will have had some time to figure out what to say, plus, if we wait until tomorrow Jake can be here as well. Maybe his dad can come too – Billy's an Elder, and in charge of the legends. I think having them here would do a lot to help calm down your dad."

And that sounds great. Really. Stiles isn't going to be talking, or thinking, his way out of a wet paper bag right then, and he **knows** he's going to have to be the one saving the day. Again. Of course, having a fellow cop backing him will help, but in the end it'll be up to him.

Then again, isn't it always?

The forest is quiet, more so than on his walk from the camp earlier, even with four huge guys surrounding him. They move like predators, silently (and maybe they feel like predators too, and that's why the silence) and if he's not looking at them he can pretend they're not there. At least until Embry starts speaking.

"I realize you're tired, and this is totally not the time to try and tell you everything you need to know about us, but there's one thing I don't believe can wait."

And yeah, nothing good usually comes from words like that, does it? Still, maybe this time it'll be different.

"You said, earlier, that your friend got bitten and turned, and that you didn't want to be like us."

Stiles stumbles to a stop, thanks to his body suddenly going rigid from fear, and starts thinking about running. _Please don't tell me you expect me to take the Bite, I was just beginning to think this wouldn't be so bad, please don't__–_

"Considering that, I thought you might like to know that that's not an option." _Huh? Wha–?_ "Something like what you described? Can't happen here, with us."

"We call ourselves werewolves, but we're not. The Quileute are shape-shifters, that just happens to take the form of a wolf. 'Werewolf' just was what was familiar, so to speak, for our generation. Blame pop culture, I guess." Embry shrugs, and Stiles can't help the small giggle that breaks free. That these wolves, with their apparent belief in spirits, are still influenced by pop culture? Hilarious. At least for a cold, tired, un-medicated Stiles.

"It's not possible for us to change anyone else into a wolf – not that we would even if we could – only direct descendants of the first wolf can phase. It's in our blood."

And it's a huge weight being lifted off of Stiles' shoulders. There are a lot of benefits to being a werewolf, he's not going to deny that, nor how many times he's been pretty much green with envy. He just doesn't want it.

Peter told him he was lying when he said that, and maybe in a way he was. Back then. Things are different now. He's thought **a lot** about it since, especially during the months that he was with Derek, and he** knows** his own heart completely now.

He wants to be human. Oh, he wants to be stronger, faster, better, sure – but he's willing to work for it.

No instant teeth-induced upgrade for Stiles – because the pros doesn't outweigh the cons.

Derek cured him of any lingering doubts when it came to that.

It probably says all kinds of things – most of them bad or wrong – about him that he didn't come to that conclusion after Scott tried to kill him. Instead it took sleeping with Derek, watching him (try to) lead his pack while being part of it himself. Took wondering if Derek wanted to bite him, change him, and realizing what it would mean for him.

A human can walk away from a pack – he's proven that. A wolf...can't. Not in the same way. Theoretically they can become Omega, sure, but only if the Alpha is weak or allows them. If not... Well. The amount of control an Alpha has over his (or her) pack members will always be terrifying to someone like Stiles.

The thought of having Derek as his **actual** Alpha, of Derek having that kind of control over him... It had been a huge part of why he'd ended up running. Derek had allowed Erica and Boyd to walk away that first time, but he'd been weak then. Weak, unsue of his power and reluctant to force any of his betas. Things had changed afterwards, after Scott he supposes, and the first thing Boyd had learned when returning to the fold was exactly how lenient Derek had been – and would never be again.

(Stiles sometimes suspects that Erica had known that, that it had been her reason for not returning with Boyd.)

With how possessive Derek had been concerning him, well. Stiles just doesn't think there would have been any reason for Derek to turn him and then allow him his freedom.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts – they're getting too dark – and sends Embry a smile that's meant to be reassuring, but probably is anything but, and mumbles out an answer.

"That's good. That's really...good."

Wow. Eloquence, your name is Stilinski. Or not.

No one comments on it though. Chances are they can tell how worried he's been about turning into a werewolf – about **being turned** against his will – and actually respect that. Or Embry's sending them threatening looks. Either way, no one's bugging him about it, and that's all that matters.

By the time they reach the camp he's more than a little spaced out. He's reached the point where he doesn't even try to register his thoughts any longer, because what few he's paid attention to has been seriously disturbing, and oh, bed, please.

And yeah, there's a bed, or a bunk, but it's not his and he doesn't get to lie down or sleep. Still, it's a soft place to sit, and it's warm inside the cabin. Embry sits next to him, also providing warmth, and with the cup of coffee he shouldn't be drinking but still is Stiles is actually beginning to feel like an actual human being again.

Charlie Swan seems like a nice guy, a good cop, even if Stiles admits he's not in the best shape to make judgment calls on **anything** at the moment. He's never been wrong about a cop though – it's the one thing in his life where his instincts have never led him astray – and that means he relaxes a little. That chief Swan seems to be willing to take his side against the packs... That helps too.

He answers a few questions, dodges a couple more, and then just sits there and listens – okay, yeah, tries to, but fails spectacularly, because nothing they say make sense – while the chief and Sam try and come up with a strategy. Embry sits silent, mostly, and that further calms Stiles.

Because no matter what, so far Embry's proven to be on his side (or is faking it really, really good) and to want what's best for Stiles, even if it means defying an Alpha. To Stiles that means that if Embry's silent then he approves of what's being said.

The next thing he knows he wakes up in his assigned bunk, head resting on the pillow he brought from home and it's light outside. He doesn't remember anything after sitting in chief Swan's cabin, but assumes he fell asleep and that Embry carried him here. It should be embarrassing, he assumes, but nah. Stiles is secure enough in himself to be carried when needed. And it was.

He can fall asleep pretty much anywhere, anyhow, when tired, but wake him up and he's screwed. Won't matter how short a nap he's had, how beat he is, once he's up then he's **up**. And that never ends well.

A quick check tells him he's wearing most of his clothes – no shoes, no jacket – and he shudders. Teenage stereotypes aside, Stiles actually cares about hygiene. There's water in a jug, as well as a washing bowl, and he is going to use that. Everything else can wait.

Once he's clean, with fresh clothes and minty-fresh breath, he grabs some emergency rations (a home-made power bar and a banana out of his backpack), drinks some water and goes off in search of his dad (with a much-needed bathroom stop on the way).

John Stilinski is sitting by the fireplace with Embry and Charlie Swan – the man matches Stiles' fuzzy memories at least – as well as two more men. One is older, sitting in a wheelchair, and the second is **huge**. Like, making Embry look small huge. His money is on it being Embry's Alpha, Jake, and his father/elder, whose name Stiles cannot for the life of him remember.

That's not important right then though, because Stiles looks at his father's back, and oh fuck. The way his dad holds himself, the lines of his body, the **placement**... Shit is going down. He starts walking faster, fighting the urge to run, because running attracts attention, and he does not want that, praying that the group can keep things from going completely to hell for just a little longer.

They were supposed to wait, weren't supposed to do this without him, and why the hell does nobody listen and whose fucking idea was this anyway? His money is, again, on the Alpha, because **Alpha**. "I'm the Alpha" was Derek's go-to phrase, his explanation for everything, his **entitlement**, and as far as Stiles has seen that's pretty much par for course.

Looks like that part is still true even with these wolves.

"–now I don't know who you think you are, or what you think your business is with Stiles, but that's my son, my **underage** son–" and shit, he's going there, and is that a **gun** on his dad's lap?

"Look, sir, with all due respect, I get where you're coming from," Embry _please don't let dad explode – or Embry, or well, __**any**__ of them – until I can fix this_ "but Stiles should really be a part of this conversation, so if we could just wait for him to join us. Please?"

"And that would be how long now? Does your so called bond with my son tell you that?" Oh, god. Someone has told him, and judging by his frequent use of the word 'son' John's on edge, and _how do I fix this?_

"No, but my eyes does tell me, seeing as he's just behind you."

His dad turns around fast enough to cause whiplash, and _yup, definitely a gun_.

"Stiles."

"Dad. Seriously, a gun? On a fishing trip? Do we need to have a talk about this?"

"Don't you start with me. I'm still the parent here, remember?" Which yeah, okay, is technically true, except for how both Stilinskis know that on any given day it's Stiles parenting John just as much as the other way around. "As for this, well, something told me it might come in handy. I'd say it's proven to be justified. I'm looking at a what? 6'4, 25 or so guy who's supposedly a werewolf thinking my son, my **underage** son, is his **mate**."

And again with the "underage" as if Stiles was twelve or something. Jeez.

"Now, with what you've told me, can you understand why I'm feeling a little trigger happy?"

And yeah, he can. His dad is remembering a haunted-looking Stiles, telling him he was getting unwanted male attention and didn't know how to stop it, and wants to protect him from that happening again. This is different though, in so many ways.

"I get it dad, I do. But this isn't the same, okay? Embry says he doesn't see me that way, and I believe him. Besides, if he's lying about that? If he tries to force me into doing something I don't want? I'm fully capable of shooting him myself – you've made sure of that, remember? – and I will."

Not that the shooting range hadn't been a good father-son bonding exercise, but Stiles has always known it was less about that and more about him being able to protect himself. His dad recognizes his point, albeit reluctantly, and tries a new angle of attack.

"Besides, wow, way to make me sound like a little kid, dad. We both know I'm a functional adult, and that I'll be one legally soon as well."

"But **werewolves**, Stiles? Really? And you've been keeping this from me for what? A year and a half now?"

Stiles winces. His dad didn't get elected sheriff for almost a decade straight based on his good looks, or because of pity votes. No. John Stilinski is a good cop, in every sense of the word, and most days it makes Stiles damn proud. It **does** make it difficult being a teenager with secrets though.

"Dad– I... I'm sorry. But you know as well as I – because you were the one to teach me this – that knowing a secret doesn't automatically mean it's yours to share. I don't want to keep things from you, and I definitely don't want to lie, but that? That isn't my story to tell. It never was."

His dad doesn't say anything, just nods with a look of frustrated pride on his face. Unfortunately for Stiles (and maybe a few others, no names mentioned) that is soon replaced by the "pieces falling into place" look.

Great. His dad is **scary** sometimes. He wishes he'd inherited that.

"As for this, though," he gestures between himself and Embry, "I was not going to hide this. I just wanted to, you know, actually be conscious for that particular talk, and I so wasn't yesterday. We agreed to table it until today for that reason, and because Embry thought these three might actually help."

_Speaking of which..._ He spins around and glares. Just a little, but. Glares.

"And exactly **why** were you having this conversation without me?" He directs his question to Embry, acting as the two of them, and his dad, are the only ones present. Oh, he's pretty sure it's not Embry's fault – as previously stated: Alpha – but Embry is the one that promised him this wouldn't happen, as well as the one Stiles (tentatively) trusts.

"I–" Embry doesn't get any further before his Alpha buts in.

"I felt it was better to do this as quickly as possible. You were still asleep–"

"–and it would have taken like a minute to wake me up, just saying."

"You were still asleep, we were reluctant to wake you up, and I thought I would give your father the facts, smooth the way for when you joined us."

Sounds good – too bad Stiles is an expert at smelling out bullshit even with his human nose. As is his father.

"Yeah, how about no?" Again he's met by that incredulous stare. Alphas **really** don't like being told no, or that they're wrong. Sucks to be him then, because Stiles is not going to let this one slide. He's not pack. No matter what he and Embry might have – might come to have – Stiles is not pack, and does not cater to some puffed-up Alpha's sense of entitlement. He calls things like he sees them.

"Let me guess. You're Jake. And that," he nods towards the man in the wheelchair, "is your father? Keeper of the legends? Yeah, sorry, but you don't get a say in this. Your dad knew, didn't he, probably even before you did. You've never had to hide anything, never had to lie, never had to worry about if telling him means getting yourself – **and him** – into a world of trouble. You got off easy."

"My dad? Didn't know anything. It was supposed to be **my** call what to tell him, when to tell him, and how much. Not to mention **I** should have been the one. You? You shouldn't even have been a blip on the radar."

He sees something in Embry's face, something he can only label as satisfaction, reminding him of how Embry had insisted yesterday that it **would** be his call, and _yeah, definitely history there_, and makes a mental note of it for later.

"Now, how much exactly did you fuck things up for me?"

Seeing a guy that size looking small and ashamed, well, it does things to Stiles. And by "does things" he means it makes him feel good. Really good. He can be more than a little vindictive, and he knows it. His moral compass is...a little skewed, so to speak, which is one of the reasons Scott has always been so important to him. He needs someone to keep him from going off the rails.

Oh, Stiles isn't evil, he's just not the "good guy" and never will be. He's too ready to make the hard choices, the expedient ones (like killing Jackson) and too okay with living with what he's done.

"Forget it, you're absolutely no use to me. Embry?"

"He told him about the pack, about the imprint and about you having some sort of prior knowledge. That's about as far as he got before your dad pulled his gun on us."

Okay. He can work with this.

"Okay, so you and I, and Embry, should sit down and talk about this. In private." He gives Jake the stink eye, Alpha or not, the guy is on his list. "Just, first, chief Swan, Mr... I'm sorry, I'm sure Embry mentioned your name, but I can't remember it."

"Billy Black."

"–Mr Black, anything the two of you feel the need to share? Otherwise maybe you could agree to be available to my dad when he gets around to wanting more detailed answers?"

Because he knows that's going to happen. It **always** happens. And on the plus side, well. His dad could use more friends, even if he **is** doing better, and him having someone like chief Swan to talk to might become Stiles' saving grace here.

And yeah, so what if he ignores the Alpha? He's learned quite a few lessons since his first exposure to werewolves, and one of the more important ones has been to not let Alphas run the show if you could avoid it. He can, as he's not a wolf or has actually agreed to be pack, and he's going to take advantage.

Knowing his dad will not hesitate to shoot just makes it easier.

"There are a lot of things we should talk about, that you should know, but they can wait. It is customary to hold a bonfire for a new wolf or imprint, where the Elders will tell the legends. I hope you will consider letting us hold one for you? There's no need to decide quite yet, but please, think it over. Your father will, of course, also be welcome."

"As for what has happened here, you have my apologies. You are absolutely right, my son has never really had to face the same difficulties as you. He **has** had other problems though, and he really does want to do what's best for every member of the pack."

Stiles can't help but be surprised – he hadn't expected the apology. Oh, he appreciates it, a lot, it just comes completely out of the blue. The Alpha, however, is not as pleased, judging from the low growl leaving him.

"Shhh. Jacob, you have only yourself to blame here. You overstepped, and mishandled the situation, and you know it. Admit it, remember it and do better next time."

Oh, he likes this. Mr Black might not be such a bad guy, and if he's still helping his son learn... Well, this Alpha just might be salvageable after all.

"Mr Stilinski, please feel free to contact me if you have any questions. I'm listed, or you can get my number from Charlie."

"Jacob, it's time we leave."

The huge man nods, clearly willing to let his father run things for now, and steps up to push the chair. First though Stiles has one more question for them.

"Mr Black? Embry said last night that it's not possible for these wolves to change someone. Was he telling the truth?"

It's not that he thinks Embry lied, it's just that trusting is **hard** these days. Also, his dad needs to hear this, he thinks, before sitting down with Embry. The thought of Stiles potentially becoming a werewolf might not have entered John's head yet, but it will soon. It's better to head it off now.

"Yes, he was. The Quileute wolves are all direct descendants of Taha Aki. There are a few more conditions involved in phasing, but basically it comes down to a blood line – and you are not a part of it."

He watches Billy Black say his goodbyes to his dad and chief Swan – they're clearly on good terms, making Stiles trust the man a little more – and keeps watching as the Blacks leave. It's not until they're out of his sight that he relaxes, and sits down next to Embry, knees suddenly weak.

It's time for the talk he's never ever wanted to have with his dad.

He would rather go into battle.

_AN: This chapter was meant to feature PapaBear Stilinski. He...didn't cooperate. Stiles on the other hand cooperated almost too much. Ah well, at least you know what to expect next time._


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anything – except for a red hoodie...

**...As Stupid Does**

**part 3 of the Stupid 'verse**

**6/?**

The absence of the Alpha feels like a blessing, and makes Stiles relaxes a little. Not much, because there's still that talk with his dad waiting. At the moment John's talking quietly with Chief Swan though, and Stiles uses the time to clear his mind of residual anger.

"He's not a bad guy, really."

Stiles turns his head and gives Embry a "bullshit" look.

"I get why you would see it differently, I do, but I've known him since we were kids. He's been my pack mate and Alpha for years, and I'm telling you, he's usually better than this."

"I guess he'd have to be, or you guys would have defected a long time ago. After all, you do have another Alpha on hand."

And just like that there's a tick in Embry's jaw, another clue that there is so much history here that Stiles doesn't know, and he's going to have to, won't he, if he wants to not fuck this up.

"You know, one of these days you're going to have to tell me the whole story here. Because I'm beginning to feel like every other sentence is triggering something, and I get it, there has to be a lot of history to all of this, but I can't go in blind. I can't."

Embry just nods, clearly understanding and agreeing, and that's a relief.

"We'll talk, soon. I promise. And you'll see that Jake isn't so bad. There's a lot on his shoulders, and right now he's under even more pressure that usual. There are some...issues surrounding his imprint, Nessie, and whenever that is up for debate again he gets tense. Add the fact that she's away at the moment with her family, and you've got a less than perfect situation. It's taking its toll on him – and it's making him a lot more short-tempered than usual."

That... Okay, that sounds reasonable. It also sounds like a reason to worry. If Jake is acting out because he's separated from his imprint, then what will that mean for Stiles? Because he and Embry **will** be separated, more often than not, seeing as a/ they're not together and won't be and b/ Stiles lives in Port Angeles and Embry...does not. And that reminds him–

"Where do you live? I mean, I'm guessing that it's somewhere close to this Forks place, with how you talked about Chief Swan, but you never told me."

"Oh. La Push, the Quileute reservation just outside of Forks – we all live there."

"So, you said your Alpha's behavior is because he's not with his imprint, at least partly. What does that mean for you? Are you going to go all crazy as well?"

Because if there's the slightest hint of that? Then Stiles will not just **let** his dad shoot Embry, he'll help – and not just by finding out the best way to make it fatal. He might have started to like Embry, but he's not going to subject himself to another crazy possessive werewolf. No way.

"I think it will be different for us. Nessie... Like I said, issues. She's a special case, and there are things making it impossible for Jake to be with her at times. When that goes on for too long, like now, when she's been gone for three weeks, that's when he goes weird. And he feels differently about her than I do about you."

"Now, I know I'm not going to see you every day – I'm not even going to try and argue for that – but I'm hoping you'll be okay with me coming down at least once a week? Maybe you coming up to La Push some weekends? Your dad would like the fishing there, I think, and Billy and Charlie would like the company."

That sounds reasonable, doable, and he nods. As long as no one gives his dad alcohol, or tries to push Stiles, then he's okay with that.

"Just, none of that Alpha crap, okay?

"You really don't like Alphas, do you?"

"It's not about not liking them, it's about not liking the Alpha attitude. I mean, not to dis your friends here, but as every single Alpha I've met have had the same asshole attitude, the same power drunk belief that they know best. And I've had it with that. I'm done being pushed around, and told what I can and cannot do, and being treated as if what I want and know isn't important because I'm 'just' human."

"That's...fair, I guess. Except for how all of us is going to want to keep you out of harm's way. Not to push you around, or because we think you're less than us, but because we really do exist to protect. You're a lot more breakable than I am, and that means I am going to get between you and danger. That's just how it is, okay?"

"Anyway, how bad is it going to be? Your age."

"I'm a junior." And he watches Embry carefully, determined to pick up any and all clues, and sees him wince. Knowing fully well that age of consent (not that they're going to do anything where that matters, because they are **not** going there) is 16 in Washington makes him believe that the stricken, worried look is more about him being a minor. Unless he's mistaken Embry is going to need to see him on a regular basis, and being a minor means his dad could put a stop to that. Good thing he really was telling the truth about practically being a legal adult.

"I turn 18 soon though, and by 'soon' I mean next Monday. So there's no need for you to panic on that account." And by 'panic' he means trying to kidnap Stiles, or something equally stupid.

Because yeah, he's been panicking all on his own, over turning 18. It's rooted in his not-so-deeply buried fear that Derek will show up, that Derek knows where he is and has known all along, that he's only waiting for Stiles to be legal before coming to take him away. Try, at least, because that? Is pretty much the number one reason why Stiles still carries wolf's-bane, and why there are a few...extras hidden in his room.

"Oh. You started school late?" A reasonable assumption, but no.

"I– When I was in third grade my mom died. I was...pretty messed up, and then I started getting panic attacks. My teachers had already been bugging my parents about having me repeat the year, so dad pulled me out. Had me spend my days studying at the station, or with a tutor. I did better that way."

Much better actually, even with his disadvantages. Part of it had been, of course, seeing his dad, knowing that his only remaining family was close.

"Then the councilor I was seeing because of the panic attacks noticed what the problem really was, and made sure I got proper help. Turns out I have an attention disorder, and that's why I never could focus on what the teachers were saying, or homework. With meds and coping techniques though? Suddenly I could actually focus on learning for the first time since starting school. It was amazing."

He'd gone from feeling stupid to realizing he was actually pretty smart over the course of a month, which had helped immensely. It hadn't helped with the grief, no, but it had helped with the feeling of being so worthless he should have died instead.

"They still held you back though?"

"Yeah. Dad wasn't going to let them, he was all ready to go on the warpath, and then Scott and his mom moved to town. We met that day, and that was it. Inseparable. Dad figured that having an actual friend was more important than graduating with my year, and that was the right call. I've never wished for things to be different." _Not on that account at least._

"Stiles!"

He turns, startled out of his thoughts, flailing a little, and looks over at his dad. Chief Swan is walking away, and that means it's time to try and calm his father down. He swallows, and summons the courage that has taken him through battles before. This should be easier, right?

"Coming, dad."

The cabin is empty, and Stiles slumps down on the bed, back against the wall to keep him up. Forget what he thought earlier, forget kanimas and Alphas and torture-happy grandfathers. This is the worst battle of his life, and it hasn't even started yet. The way his dad looks at him is completely unreadable, and makes Stiles squirm where he sits. The look leveled at Embry when he sits next to Stiles though, that one's positively murderous. Not good.

The silence drags on, until he's ready to start babbling, about anything, just to break it.

"Werewolves, Stiles?" His dad has **that** face, and Stiles squirms again. There's a reason he never told, okay? Or well, there are several, but this was always number one. The fear of disappointing his dad, of ruining their relationship further.

"I'm assuming you kept it from me to protect me? And Scott? Oh, close your mouth," he does, he didn't even notice it was open, "it's not like you're that hard to figure out. So who else than Scott? Let's see–"

"Dad. Don't. Please. I can't tell you – it's not my place to tell **anyone** – and I don't want to lie to you. So just, please, please, don't ask me any questions I can't answer."

An assessing look is followed by a nod, and he relaxes just a little. This...will help. Not much, but at least some, and he's willing to grab at any straw right now.

"Fine. I won't ask you. Doesn't mean I won't be figuring it out on my own though."

"I never expected anything else, dad," because he hadn't, "just... Thanks for not making me betray anyone's confidence."

"Moving on then. First things first, if the need arises," and _way to be subtle, dad_, "how do I kill a werewolf? I'm guessing that beheading, or any kind of cutting them in two, will work, but besides that?"

And oh, he's pretty sure that was meant to be just as blunt as it is, an unsubtle way to inform Stiles that no matter what he confirms or denies John Stilinski has already figured out that Laura Hale was a werewolf. Damn his dad is good.

"It depends on what kind of wolf, dad. Helpful, I know," he shrugs, "but that's the way it seems to be."

"And if I shoot him," John nods to Embry, "I'm guessing he'll heal?"

"Yeah, but dad, he hasn't done anything to get shot for. Seriously. So far the only thing Embry has done is have some spirits tell him he's my big brother from another mother. Kinda like Scott, except native?" he tries, hoping his dad's soft spot for Scott will help out.

It earns him a stern look.

"Head shot?"

"I... Yeah, okay, dad? As far as I know you can kill a werewolf with a bullet to the brain, or straight through the heart, but you are **not** going to be experimenting. No way."

Because that? Would just be cruel. Oh, if something actually happens, then he'll sing another song, one accompanied by his own gun, thank you, but just because of this? No. Oh, he'll be doing some experimentation of his own, just to find out if mountain ash and wolf's-bane effects Embry or his pack mates at all (he's all for voluntelling Paul he's it, but, yeah) but that's just to be safe. For all of them to be safe. After all, if wolf's-bane works, then he needs to wolf-proof some parts of his life a little, just so Embry won't kill himself visiting.

"Sir? I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise that if I hurt Stiles you've got a free pass at finding out exactly how to kill me. The packs won't interfere. Protecting an imprint is embedded so deep in our makeup that just the thought hurts. The others would attack me themselves in order to protect him."

John Stilinski nods, obviously happy with what he's hearing – even though it's equally obvious he's not ready to trust Embry quite yet, and will take that free pass if he feels it necessary. Stiles just...loves his dad for it. Embry could turn him into mince meat without even thinking about it, and his dad's still going up against him without fear or hesitation.

(That should probably serve as a cause for concern for all three of them, but hey, it's not like they're living in that reality any longer, now is it. As for Stiles, yeah, as if. He came by his lack of 'normal' reaction to all this legit, okay, by inheriting it.)

"I want to apologize for Jake's behavior. His approach was wrong, and not what Stiles and I had agreed on. However, in his defense, he's having a lot to deal with now, and he wasn't that happy about having to leave the rez. And even though it might not seem like it he **is** a good Alpha."

"Alpha? Is that your way of saying he's in charge? Like with actual wolves?"

"Yes. Jake runs our pack – I'm his Third. To be honest, he inherited it, so to speak. The respect he gets from the pack has nothing to do with his blood though, or who his ancestors were, it's all on him."

"When we first phase... We don't just wake up one day and turn into a wolf. It's a process that can take months, where we change both mentally and physically, that culminates with the phase. For me, I grew three inches in two months, and packed on over 30 pounds of muscle. My personality changed even more; I was short-tempered, on edge all the time – once I blew up at my mom because we ran out of milk. I was cutting classes, my grades were dropping, I was breaking curfew and sneaking out. I cut all ties with my best friends and started running with a new crew."

"It was costing me my mom. I literally couldn't tell her what was going on, and for someone not in the know about that little genetic surprise, well. You're a police officer, sir, and a parent, you tell me what you'd think."

'Steroids' is what John would think, Stiles knows, and what he **did** worry about when Scott started changing. The answer is clear in both their faces, and Embry just nods.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what my mom thought too. There were rumors we were both doing and selling drugs, and for someone who's already at a disadvantage – my mom's not Quileute," he adds, predicting the question, "it was hard."

Stiles can relate, because he's been there. He knows exactly how it feels to have your parent think you're doing something awful when in reality you're just trying to protect people, and that insight makes him connect a little more to Embry.

His dad makes that same realization, he can tell, and it softens him a little. Not much, but at the moment every bit of progress needs to be savored. After all, even the longest journeys start with one single step, don't they? This is John Stilinski's first step.

"Jake saw how much it was costing those of us whose parents weren't on the council, how much it was costing **me** to keep the secret. When he became Alpha, one of the first things he did was to lift the ban on telling. It wasn't easy, but he refused to budge. He fought the Elders for it – shamed his dad into agreeing. We still can't tell everyone, but our parents? They all know now."

"The same goes for the imprints' families. Five years ago you wouldn't have been told. Stiles would have been forbidden to tell you. He still could have, because there's nothing the Alpha or the Elders can do to him, but I would have been punished for it. And if you'd approached me, or say Billy? You would have been fed lies. I would have been ordered to lie to you, and no, I couldn't have gone against that order. There would have been suggestions that maybe the drugs Stiles is taking – the ones we can smell on him – was causing him to imagine things. It wouldn't have been pretty."

No, he can't imagine it would have been. In fact, all he needs to do is imagine telling his dad something like this six months ago, and he can feel his body begin to shake. 'Not pretty' doesn't begin to describe the utter cluster fuck it would have been, and yeah, right there, like on demand, are the first signs of a panic attack.

"Stiles? Your heartbeat... Are you okay?"

"Are you having a panic attack?"

He's worrying them both, and he tries to fight it down. He can't always do that, but when things are serious enough and he catches it early (and by early he means within the first minute) he's managed some success. Deep breaths, focus, positive thoughts... The scenario that scared him so isn't going to happen. Things are fine with his dad, and they will stay fine. They **will**. He reaches out, blindly, and takes the water his dad has got ready. With every sip he forces a positive image, and by the time the glass is empty he's okay. Not fine, no, but okay.

"'m fine, it's fine now."

They don't fully believe him, he can tell, but that's understandable. Also, they're on the same side, if only temporary, and that's almost worth the panic.

"Did you eat anything before rushing out? No? That's...Son, you know you need to take care of yourself too, right, not just everyone else. Sit here and relax, okay, I'll fix you a sandwich."

He's too tired to do anything but take orders, and just relaxes into the wall and the heat of Embry's shoulder. When his dad returns with a sandwich and a chocolate bar he's almost asleep again, his body reacting to all the stress he's putting it through. He used to do better, he really did, but he's gotten out of the habit. It's a good thing, it is, but. It also leaves him more vulnerable than he likes to be.

"Here. You know, I think if you go out to the others there should be some coffee. Why don't you go look?" Again with the unsubtle hints. His dad **never** suggests Stiles have coffee – it's like him offering pizza for dinner. He gives him an unimpressed look.

"Really, dad? 'Go have some coffee*, is that what you're going with? You don't think I realize what you're doing here, trying to get me out of the picture so you can threaten Embry? And you better not be thinking about making good on any of those threats now, do you hear me?"

Twin stares of "really? Who's supposed to be the parent here?" eet him, and he flushes. So he tends to go a little overboard at times. It's not like he's being unreasonable here!

"Fine, coffee. But if I go off the rails here, remember you asked for it," and he wags a finger at his dad before getting up and leaving.

He stops by the door, turns and hesitates.

"Dad? Please, I... I know it's a lot to ask, but trust me? And don't do something we'll regret, okay? I love you."

Waiting for an answer is too much, and so he just walks out, starting his quest for coffee.

By the time the door to the cabin opens Stiles is a mess. He gave up on the coffee after the first two mouthfuls, opting for the offered cocoa mix instead, gulping down mug after mug of it. His knee is jangling, he's bitten his nails down, and is seriously considering risking his dad's wrath just to break the stand still. The door handle hasn't even been pressed the whole way down before he's up on his feet, butterflies the size of spaceships in his stomach, and fear almost drenching him.

Who's coming out? What's happened? Are they both okay? Just... He needs for his dad to be okay.

When his dad steps out and starts walking towards him he stumbles, a mix of gratitude and fear taking over. His dad is okay. But what about Embry? John Stilinski is a good man, and a good cop, and Stiles has never doubted that. Now... Now he doesn't know what to think. Because if his dad decided that Embry constitutes a threat to his only son, then there's no telling what he could have done.

For every second that passes without Embry joining them the fear grows, and Stiles feels his legs give out under him. This cannot be happening. His dad cannot have killed Embry – not when Stiles trusted him, left them alone. It's his fault. And now what? He knows how to hide a body – but that is neither something he wants to tell his father, nor prove again. And even if they do hide it, they're dealing with werewolves. They're screwed.

"Dad..." he whimpers.

"Son," and he's swept up in a bear hug. "We need to talk, just the two of us, okay, but later. When I've processed this, and when you don't look like like you're going to fall down dead any minute. For now though, why don't you go rest some more? We're not leaving yet for a couple of hours, and I'd like to talk some more to chief Swan."

"But dad..." How can he be so calm, when Stiles is about to go out of his head? How can he treat this like any other day?

"No, come on, kid. Besides, I'm guessing you and Embry have some talking to do as well? Just, if he lays one finger wrong on you? I'm turning him into a rug, and I don't care if he's 'phased' first or not."

He blinks. Did his dad just say...? And then he runs.

They talk, stretched out on separate bunks, about important things – not just wolves and the supernatural and them, but about games and favorite food and which Marvel hero is the best. (Stiles likes Iron Man. Embry – predictably – has a soft spot for Wolverine. They both agree that Storm **is** a Goddess, and not just because she was worshiped as one before Xavier recruited her.) It's good, and calming, and it puts Stiles to sleep much too soon.

Once he's home, and alone in his room he just...sort of falls into his chair. The last 24 hour have been a roller coaster, and he doesn't know what to think. He's gained a new pack. He never **wanted** a new pack – hell, he didn't even want his last one, and not really his first either. (The semi-pack thing they'd had going, him and Scott and the others, he'd liked it, sure, but. He hadn't liked the reasons behind its existence.) As for Embry... He's not sure. All he knows is that he's not ready to think about it in any more dept. Not now.

Instead, what he needs is a little pick-me-up, an indulgence so to say – namely sending an e-mail to Scott.

He rarely contacts his best friend for all the obvious reasons, but sometimes he risks it. So far he's sent a Christmas card (posted in New York by one of the deputies, signed with a fake name) and sent two e-mails. That's all, in close to six months.

He wants to talk to Scott for real, wants to tell him everything, wants things to be the way they were back before the Bite. But, things **aren't** like that anymore, and Stiles is afraid to take too many risks. The address he uses is one no one except Scott has, just as no one but him knows the one Scott's using. He's gone so far as to ask Scott to not write from home, just in case Derek's check-ups include snooping through his room or placing spyware on his computer. It's slightly paranoid, yes, but it's also not beyond the realm of possibility.

After all, Derek has Danny, whose computer skills is right at the top of Stiles' list of reasons how he's scared Derek will find him. Scent is out of the picture by now, and they haven't told anyone their new location.

So far Derek (or his pack) hasn't shown up, so Stiles is okay with being called paranoid. He's also okay with taking a few risks in order to still have Scott in his life. No matter what goes down or how many times one of them fuck up, or how far apart they are, this is his best friend. His brother. And he's not willing to give that up without a fight.

_Scott,_

_went fishing with dad and some of his friends this weekend. It was boring, and no, I didn't catch anything, but at the same time I ended up having a good time. How's that for a surprise?_

_The quiet, and the fresh air was good for me, I think, and..._

He soon settles into a new routine. Embry calls him every day, and texts him a few times as well – exchanging more information, building a foundation for them to stand on. It's a work in progress, they both know as much, but luckily Embry's willing to do the work. And because he is, Stiles is too.

The first visit comes Wednesday (and yeah, part of Stiles is impressed, having sort of expected the wolf to break down and show up Monday) and they move carefully around each other. They are both new to this, and to each other, and Stiles is more than a little wary. He has every reason to be. It helps that his dad is equally wary, and more than ready to make good on any and all threats of turning Embry into a rug (or worse).

One day he'll be able to relax around the wolf, he knows it. One day.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own anything – except for a red hoodie...

**...As Stupid Does**

**part 3 of the Stupid 'verse**

**7/?**

Saturday morning sees a half-sleeping Stiles dragging himself into his car. Not that he particularly wants to, seeing as he hasn't slept this poorly in months – sure, eight hours have always been more exception than rule, but three is pushing it even for him – his Adderall hasn't kicked in yet and his stomach is rebelling. But. This isn't about what he wants.

When Billy Black had called Thursday about having a bonfire, **Stiles'** bonfire, today both Stilinskis had balked at first. After the lovely introduction to Embry's Alpha – and, incidentally, Billy's son – Stiles would have preferred some more time before going to LaPush, the Quileute reservation, and a formal introduction to the packs. He **needed** that time to come to terms with what had happened, and what it would mean, and most importantly: to get to know and trust Embry a little better first. And then Billy had kept talking, saying that of course John was invited to come along.

And that, right there, is the one thing keeping him (relatively) calm at the moment. He's not going alone. His dad won't be allowed to be at the actual bonfire, for some reason or other tied to pack secrets (or so he's pretty sure), but he **will** be nearby.

(And yes, Stiles knows there's a gun hidden somewhere on his dad's body. He's more than okay with that.)

In fact, he's pretty damn sure that's not only why his dad was invited but also why the hurry – not just to make Stiles come (he knows they could have found a way to push him into it) but also to make him **and** his dad okay with it. With Stiles being a minor John has quite a lot of authority, and not waiting another two days for that to change suggests that Billy is trying to say they respect John, and the fact that imprint or no, Stiles will always be his son first. It's how Stiles would do it, and yeah, sure, not everyone is as manipulative as him, not even when they should be, but still.

_And I really should stop stalling and ranting, and just get on with this._

He gets in on the passenger side, because his dad insists on driving. Normally he doesn't let anyone else drive the jeep, but Stiles is fine with making an exception to that rule today, not just because he hasn't quite woken all the way up yet, but mainly because of how on edge he is. That he'll be a danger to himself and others behind the wheel once he wakes up enough for those nerves to start presenting themselves goes without saying.

Maybe with a little luck he **won't** wake the whole way up. Sleeping the trip away would be awesome.

He does. And it is.

They're staying with Charlie Swan and his wife Sue. Not because that's their only option, but it's the one John is most comfortable with, and right now that seems to be the general guide line. "What's most likely to not trigger the gun carrying dad?"

Stiles is fiiiiiine with that. He might be kinda ruthless himself, and pretty much an asshole when he doesn't like people and situations, but he prefers to not be seen that way. He likes to fly below the radar – it's saved his neck more than once. Sure, the packs know by now that he isn't harmless, but given time they might forget and that's what he wants. He's going to study them, and find out their weak spots, and if he needs to he'll **use** that. Which is always easier if people aren't looking at him.

Invisibility has its perks.

So yeah, let them worry about his dad. Stiles will be just fine, over here, preparing for an eventual stealth attack.

Charlie Swan is a good choice to stay with in any case, since he's who is going to entertain John while Stiles does whatever, and his wife seems like a nice person. A good cook too, judging from the smells coming out of the kitchen. That's always a plus in Stiles' book, especially if she happens to have any new, healthy (or potentially healthy) and not too complicated recipes to share. Priorities, okay?

The fact that Sue is an Elder, and both her children are wolves, means she has a stake in the game, sure, but it also means she's a valuable ally. Not to mention the fact that she might be more prone towards looking out for Stiles seeing as she'll be going straight home to meet his dad afterwards. Anything that keeps him safe(r).

He's willing to bet that Embry was aware of his arrival the second they passed onto tribal lands, either because of those pesky werewolf senses or because of the packs having someone on patrol, but the wolf doesn't show up until Stiles texts him an okay. And it's not one of those appear-out-of-nowhere-two-seconds-later deals either, no, it takes several minutes, indicating that Embry actually is trying to respect Stiles' space. Instead of, say, lurking just outside of Stiles' awareness, like certain **others** would.

It's a sound strategy. After all, John isn't the only Stilinski capable of skinning an animal. You know, just for reference's sake.

The bonfire won't be until dark begins to fall, and while that's still pretty early with it only being April and everything, it still limits the amount of time at their disposal. Embry clearly wants to show Stiles around, show him everything, but even with a place as small as LaPush there just won't be enough time. After all, showing someone your home wasn't just about pointing out buildings and places, it was about the memories attached – and those didn't care about size.

"You know, I had all these plans, but looking at them realistically... There's no way we're going to manage all of that today. So, how about this? The grand tour of LaPush can wait until tomorrow, or your next visit," _provided there is one_, "if you don't feel up to it, and instead we try and keep it simple today? My mom would like to meet you..."

And okay. Meeting the parents feels so cliché, and Stiles kinda hates the fact that the first time he'll do that will be for **this**, but it's also something he recognizes as important. Embry's met his dad, and if Stiles really **is** going to be tied to him for the rest of their lives, then it's only fair that he returns the courtesy. Even if he feels a little uncomfortable meeting a **mom**. Then again, he guesses it isn't fair to make Embry suffer because Stiles' own mom isn't around.

Or, you know, anything else.

Maybe.

Meeting Ms Call – Tiffany – is interesting. She's exactly Stiles' kind of woman, meaning **strong**. She's raised her son alone, without allowing herself – or him – to become bitter, and she's done so in a way that even Stiles can admit has made Embry lovable. (He might not be there, and he doesn't think he'll ever be like **that**, but he can still see that.) She's managed to hold her head up high during hardship, and turned her life into something good.

He respects that.

She reminds him of Melissa McCall in so many ways, with the last name and the werewolf son actually only being minor details. There are differences though, and the biggest one is how they relate to him.

To Melissa he was always this hyper kid who kept getting her son into trouble. It's true, of course, but.

Tiffany, however, sees him as someone who's helping her son, who might actually keep him out of trouble. Embry calls him "brother" and Tiffany echoes it, whereas Melissa...never did. Oh, she loves him, in her way, but that love always came with restrictions. She never saw him as family. Never **wanted** him as family. And yes, he **knows** this to be true.

Once the worst pain from losing his mother had lessened – not disappeared, no, never that – Stiles had begun wondering about what would happen should his dad start dating again. Eventually that had led to him and Scott – who had worried about the same – deciding that the best course of events would be if their parents started dating each other. To a pair of lost teens clinging to each other it had seemed perfect. Their parents worked so well together, and Stiles and Scott already felt like brothers. What could be wrong with that?

Yeah. What?

That dream had died the summer between sixth and seventh grade, when Stiles had overheard a conversation between Melissa and her sister.

He hadn't meant to, had only gone looking for a glass of water after waking up during a sleep over. When he'd heard Melissa say that his dad had asked her out, he'd stopped and listened, barely able to contain his happiness.

That hadn't been a problem for long though. Melissa had turned John Stilinski down, and hearing her reason knocked all lingering hope out of Stiles. It was him. Melissa hadn't wanted to be his mother, hadn't wanted to be responsible for him.

Dating his dad, yes. Marrying him and letting him take the place as Scott's dad, also yes. But no to acting as Stiles' second parent.

He knows her reasoning was sound – he'd been a handful, even on good days and with his meds, and he'd known it even back then. Taking care of Scott alone, with his health issues and Mr McCall out of the picture, had been enough of a commitment. Asking her to take on Stiles as well, well. It wouldn't have been fair. No matter how much he'd wanted to. No matter how much he'd wanted for her to love him enough that there would be no need to **ask**.

But. Fairness or not, understanding or not. It had still hurt. Still does, years later. He'd loved her fiercely, and almost as much as he'd loved his own mother, had seen her as family – and finding out that she didn't want to be had torn his slowly mending heart into even smaller pieces.

The rest of the summer had been spent trying to learn how to run the house on his own. Melissa had helped with so many things, and John and Stiles had both been grateful. (Stiles wasn't the only one back then who thought it meant more than it did.) After hearing exactly how draining Melissa found him, Stiles had been determined not to let her anymore. He'd phased her out, slowly at first, then faster and faster as he became more competent. By Thanksgiving he'd been standing on his own two feet, and never asked for (or accepted) her help again.

She'd come off as a mix between sad, offended and relieved. Stiles, of course, had gotten caught up on the last one.

John and Melissa had drifted apart as well after that. And_ huh, _he hasn't thought about it like that – because it's all in the past, right, and Stiles usually does his best not to dwell on it at all – but his dad never made an attempt to date again after that. That realization is immediately followed by a question. Does that mean Melissa broke his dad (too), or just that John gave up on believing someone would want both of them? And _woah!_ that's a depressing thought.

By the time the McCall's had left Beacon Hills there hadn't really been anyone outside of the four of them who remembered the way they'd been referred to as the Stilinski-McCalls.

No one would, ever again, even if they all somehow ended up in the same place again, and not because of Stiles. (In retrospect, that particular secret was maybe one he should have kept. John's reaction had been...interesting. Okay, okay. **Terrifying**, okay? It had been terrifying, and Stiles had thanked his lucky star – shut up, he totally has one, it just happens to be more than a little dysfunctional – that Melissa was far, far away.)

None of that matters anymore, though. None of it **should** matter anyway. And Tiffany is great. Stiles actually relaxes and just **is**, talks and eats, and listens, and ignores the fact that if it was completely up to him he wouldn't be here. Because what he needs right now is support, and balance, and anything he can find to keep him from going off the rails all together. Tiffany...is one of those things, he thinks. And so he just allows her to try.

When it's time for him and Embry to leave for the bonfire Tiffany makes him promise to come back the next day for lunch, with his dad, and then embraces both of them. It feels...strange. Exhilarating, yes, but mostly strange. Stiles doesn't get that many hugs. From his dad, yes, and the occasional bro hug from Scott, but apart from that? The closest he's gotten in years (once he distanced himself from Melissa) is being held up _or down_ by Derek.

And no, not going there. Good thoughts, happy thoughts only. (Derek would never be the memory behind Stiles' patronus, okay, or the thought to make him fly. He wouldn't.)

The smile on Tiffany's face, that's a happy thought, as is the matching one Embry's sporting. So that's what Stiles focuses on.

"She likes you. I thought she would, but... I'm happy."

"Yeah, I'm all the rage with werewolf moms, didn't you know?" _Damnit, __**happy**__ thoughts. Happy. Thoughts._

"Why wouldn't you be?" And he's sincere, and Stiles just can't. "My mom... It's like, to her, you're the return of my free will. Ever since I first phased there's been so many things that have been completely out of my control. When we told her everything, that's what she got hung up on. My lack of free will."

"Phasing for the first time, it's something we can't control. At all. None of us even knew it was an option, and the things that cause us to phase... After that we're tied to the reservation, and the tribe, like no one else, with this huge **fate**. And then we have to worry about imprinting as well... Mom hated that. I did too – hell, we all did."

Stiles can understand that. It's not, after all, exactly a picnic from his side either, at least not as far as he's concerned.

"My dad has never been in the picture. I didn't even know his name until after I came clean about being a wolf, and about how genetics play a huge part. He was a Black, it turned out, a result of Billy's grandfather having an affair in his old age. Billy's actually my cousin, weird as it may seem."

"Anyway, one day he just up and disappeared. Mom kept waiting for him, especially once she found out about being pregnant just weeks after, so certain he'd return. He did, sure, but years later, with a wife and three kids. The eldest was just six months younger than me. A 'whirlwind romance', mom heard. That's when we left the Makah rez and moved here."

There's no way of knowing, of course, not without some serious snooping, but to Stiles? It kinda sounds like the man had phased and imprinted. He's not bringing that up with Embry though. If he wants to talk, fine, if not... Well. Not to mention, if Embry **hasn't** had the same suspicions Stiles sure as hell doesn't want to be the one to bring that up.

"The thought of doing that to someone? Even without actually knowing the kind of pain it brings none of us is too keen on risking that. At the same time, the thought of being alone for the rest of my life... I didn't want that either. Now, with you? Now I'm beginning to believe I won't have suffer through that."

And that...explains so much. Not just about Tiffany's reaction, but about Embry's, and well, everyone else's too. It's not just about him, or his refusal to be the traditional kind of imprint. It's about how he supposedly **isn't**, and how tradition doesn't cover this. It's about how he just might have turned Embry into the only wolf who can date without having to fear repercussions, and maybe, just maybe, if Embry and Stiles have this, then it could happen to others as well.

At the same time it's this huge, scary thing that makes Stiles want to scream and run away, makes him feel the panic attack just waiting.

He's just been turned into a symbol, and even though he has no idea what it will mean for him, he's pretty sure it's not a good thing. Not if he wants to keep his **own** free will. Which, by the way, he's had precious little of as it is since his crash introduction to the supernatural, and he's not going to give up any more of it, not even if he has to kill for it, and–

_Abort, abort. Distraction, something, anything, he'll be able to tell, he'llknowI'mscrewed, distra– Yes._

"What did you mean, about knowing the pain it brings? It sounded like you meant something, and I'm tired of not being able to read between the lines."

"Ah. It's a long story, okay, and not one I want to go into here and now, but. Sam and Leah were together. Before. And then he phased, and imprinted, and it...kind of broke Leah. We've been in her head, we **know** how much it hurt her. It's why she went to Jake's pack – to get away from Sam, from being in his head and seeing how much he loves Emily."

Oh. That's... "That's awful."

"Yeah. It really, really was. I don't really remember Leah much, from before, because of the age difference and everything, but I've seen Sam's memories, and Seth's, and the way it changed her... I wouldn't wish that on my enemies"

They walk in silence for a while, and Stiles' thoughts spin and spin, and he's actually beginning to think that this imprint might be a good thing, because of what it'll mean for Embry.

Assuming, of course, that the wolf is telling him the truth about this just being a brotherly thing, and not just stringing Stiles along until he can get what he really wants, and fuck, **happy thoughts**.

"Right. So, what do I need to know about all of this?" He gestures widely, indicating the rez and the bonfire and the packs and the imprint, and **Embry**, and everything really, only to realize his error. "I mean, for now, what do I need to know in order not to fuck up completely tonight?"

"Ah. Well, just try not to act like you want to shoot Jake, I think. Some would find it amusing – and justified – but it **is** supposed to be a sacred ceremony. Other than that... The Spirits gave you to me, Stiles," and yup, hearing that is still creepy, "and everyone present knows and respects that. They might not know **you**, but that will come. So just be you."

"Everyone present? Meaning..." God, they really should have talked about all of this earlier, like when Embry had been visiting for instance. But of course they hadn't, choosing instead to talk about things like movies and comics. It had been about bonding, okay, and that shit **mattered**.

"Both packs. The imprints. The Elders. You've met Billy and Sue, and Sam's actually an Elder as well, and that just leaves Old Quil, our Quil's grandfather. The imprints, that's you, Sam's Emily, Jared's Kim, Paul's Rachel and Quil's Claire. Oh, and Jake's Nessie, but she's probably not going to be there."

"As for the wolves, first there's the Black Pack. Me, Jake and Quil, plus Seth and Leah Clearwater. Leah's Jake's Second, by the way, as I'm his Third. The Uley Pack, that's Sam, with Paul as Second and Jared as Third, and then Collin and Brady, who are just two years older than you. I think you'll like Seth best though."

Embry sounds hesitant when mentioning the Clearwaters, but Stiles can't really figure out why. Or could it be that Stiles is staying in their family home, even if Leah doesn't, in fact, live there anymore? Does he think Stiles is unaware about their wolfy-ness?

"Dad mentioned something Charlie said, that Seth is close to my age as well?"

"Yeah, three years older than you. He's training with Charlie, actually."

Embry's a little calmer, a little more relaxed, but not all the way. So maybe not that, or just that. Could it be the fact that Stiles is staying in the home of anther wolf? Whatever it is, Stiles isn't going to let it effect him. He feels safe staying with the Clearwater/Swan family, and so that's what he will do. Possessive, overprotective wolf or not, Embry can just deal.

And if he doesn't... Too bad for him.

By the time they reach the part of the beach that is used for the bonfires – less secluded, Stiles notices, than he would have guessed, or chosen for himself – it's almost completely dark out. It makes for a more impressive bonfire, sure, but it also makes it more likely he'll mis-step and hurt himself, and it definitely sets him on edge. All his battle tested instincts roar into life, and he can feel his body adapting. He can feel Embry noticing, as well, but even the illusion of privacy is gone now, and so the wolf keeps his mouth shut.

_**Good.**_

Stiles is easy going most of the time, or at least comes off that way, but when he goes into battle mode he's anything but. Gangly nerdy teen, yeah, sure, that's who he is. But what so many miss is the fact that there's a core of steel underneath the plaid and the stupid tees. He has it in him, that ruthlessness, and while he isn't really a killer by nature, he sure is one by necessity.

It wasn't Jackson who decided to Molotov Peter's undead ass. That was Stiles all the way, and while it's not his favorite character trait it's one of his strongest. He's as much a protector as his father, or Embry – he just slips under the radar in a way they don't.

He finds his fingers tapping against his left forearm, startles and slowly removes them, trying not to draw attention to himself. There's no knife strapped there, not any longer. There might be soon again though.

Introductions are brief, not giving him much except a face to each of the names Embry has already given him. It doesn't matter. If he sticks around he'll find out what he needs to know for himself. Just like he always does. It's better that way.

Listening to the legends is awesome – but it's also not something Stiles enjoys. His attention disorder makes it hard for him, and he doesn't have his usual coping methods. What he does have is his phone, and so he records the telling, knowing that otherwise he'll miss half of it. (That's the reason he'll give everyone else, but, being Stiles, there's also another reason: he wants all the information easily accessible and well documented for when he **really** begins to research this.)

Half of his attention is on the words spoken, the rest... The rest is spent observing and assessing the people surrounding him. He will have to talk to them later, naturally, and add that to the data he's collecting, but just watching people can give a lot as well. Stiles is surprisingly good at people-watching, something that may or may not be because of his long standing crush on Lydia. (And well, watching his mom and later his dad for signs of unhealth. He prefers to think of Lydia as the reason though.)

What he picks up on immediately is a given: the relationship between wolves and imprints. It's easy to see who belongs together, even when seated separately like Sam and Emily, and it gives him chills. They're so caught up in each other, so two-made-into-one, and it's Stiles' nightmare right there. It's exactly what he doesn't want, but fears he'll be forced into. He doesn't want Embry to look at him like he's the centrer of the universe. He doesn't want to look happy at receiving that kind of attention.

He wants freedom. He wants to go home. He wants his friends, and he wants to not be intimidated and terrified any longer. He wants **his** free will.

He's just going to have to make sure he gets as much of that as he possibly can. No matter what it'll take.

Once the telling of the legends is over everyone follows Sue Clearwater to her home. She – and the imprints – have prepared a feast, with the intent to let everyone have a chance to talk to Stiles. He listens more than he talks though, and slowly builds up his mental files about everyone.

After a while he gets bored – typically – and decides to play a little game. Werewolf Who's Who, pretty much, or a comparison between members of the LaPush packs and the Hale pack.

He's already done Quil, that first day, casting him as Scott. Seeing the wolf with Claire, his imprint, has only served to strengthen that impression. Oh, it isn't the same, not nearly, with Claire being a little girl, but it also is. "Sneer wolf", or Paul, feels like Isaac; all bad boy attitude and violence on the inside, but softness beneath. He hadn't believed it back then, but Embry had been right about the changes in the volatile wolf when he's with his mate.

Sam then? At first glance he'd been Derek, just based on the fact that he is an Alpha, but had never been meant to be. But that's not is. Yes, there are streaks of Derek in Sam's personality, but when it comes down to it? Boyd. Solid, trustworthy, competent. Stiles approves – it makes him feel calmer.

Seth, the guy Embry thinks he'll like... Yeah, he does. Or, he thinks he will, once he gets the chance – or rather: takes the chance. Seth is, well, sunny, and reminds Stiles of nothing but preBite Scott. Then again, they **all** remind him of Scott, at least a little. Pieces of his brother-from-another-mother in all of these would-be-brothers. It's not so strange, really.

Being a teenager, and having everything change on you. Finding out you're a mythical creature, that you could hurt or kill the people you love – that you need to protect them against others who will try to hurt or kill them. Oh, and of course, that head-over-heels, nothing-else-exists love.

Yup. Scott all over.

And it scares him a little – _a lot_ – because it weakens his resolve. It softens him towards them.

He shakes himself out of his darkening thoughts. He needs to not go there, not here and now anyway. Later, when he's home and alone, and safe, maybe. Not now. _Let's return to the game then, shall we? So they're __**all**__ Scott..._ And that really wasn't the point of all this, now was it? To have everyone be the same? _Where's the fun in that?_ So instead he turns, looking for a new target, smiling a little when his eyes falls on Emily and Leah.

Most people would – if they were wired like Stiles, and thus not really most people at all – when making a comparison like this cast Leah as the LaPush Erica, he guesses. The only female wolf in a bunch of testy boys. And yeah, he can see that. He can see deeper, though, and when he looks beyond the obvious who he sees echoed in Leah isn't Erica. It's Allison. Beautiful, broken and remade, love and laughter turned into hate and bitterness, a strong yet fragile person keeping herself set slightly apart from the people that would welcome her.

And then it hits him. Leah isn't just Allison – she's **him** too.

His little game loses all its appeal after that.

About an hour in all the wolves perk up, and Jacob rises and leaves. It doesn't seem like there's anything wrong though, and it's not like he'll miss the Alpha, so Stiles goes back to talking cooking with Emily. So what if it makes him look like a good little imprint? He **likes** cooking, most of the time, and while he still swears by curly fries, fast food all the time would kill him.

When the door opens and Jacob returns Stiles just ignores it, until he notices the mood in the room change. There, next to Jacob, is a striking young woman that's clearly not Native, and just as clearly the aforementioned Nessie. Just... _Wow. _She walks around, chats with people, and then sets course for Stiles. He braces for impact. The Alpha's Mate going for him? This can only be interesting.

"Hi, Stiles? I'm Nessie. Welcome."

He smiles, and nods, and talk about irrelevant things while trying to project harmless little bunny. It's probably not working, but he's trying anyway. Trying never hurts. Almost never.

"Can we talk, in private? Just, like out on the porch."

It's clearly meant to calm him, as if she can tell how his body is reacting to her – but she shouldn't be able to, not like the wolves – and he gives her a bland smile.

"Not sure how private that'll be, not with the furballs and their super senses, but yeah, okay." They walk outside, in silence, while the others pretend like nothing. It's ridiculous, but you take what you can get.

"So?"

"Billy told me about Jacob's behavior towards you, and I wanted to apologize on his behalf. He's much too stubborn to do so on his own." Stiles' eyebrows shoot up, because **what**? Nessie just smiles.

"I've known and loved Jacob my whole life, and I will keep loving him until he dies, but he's far from perfect." The smile on her lips grows fond and knowing, and yeah, he's more than a little surprised that she's able to be that aware, with how in love she seems to be. It's not something Stiles is used to seeing, okay, lovesick people who are also clear sighted.

"He has a bad habit of thinking his solution is the best, and go with that no matter what the other people involved think, and sadly it also has a tendency to wok out. He needed this, Stiles. He really, really needed to be smacked in the face with the realization that just because it's always worked there's no guarantee that it always will, or that it's right for everyone."

There's a story there, **at least** one, as so often with these people, and Stiles really, really wants to know. He's not going to push though, because they might push back, and that...would get ugly. Maybe even shoot-you-in-the-face ugly. So he just nods.

"My best friend is like that. Sometimes his plans work out, and he ends up saving the day in a spectacular fashion, but when they don't... Turns out, getting kidnapped isn't as glamorous as you might think. So yeah, I get it. I just don't like it."

"Which is your privilege. I get it, I really do, but I was hoping you'd be willing to give him a chance anyway? I do have a vested interest in keeping him happy, you know. At least you shouldn't push Embry away because of Jacob's mistakes. They might be pack brothers, but they aren't the same, and with the imprint you are more important to Embry than any of them. Even his Alpha."

"I don't want to push you. I just wanted to apologize, and to tell you that if you have questions you're welcome to talk to me as well. I'm not always around, since I don't live permanently on the rez, but I try to always be available to family anyway."

The implication, that **he** is family now, sends a frisson of cold down his spine. He keeps it off his face though, smiles and nods again, and makes his excuses. Fifteen minutes later he's in his borrowed bed, meaning to think about the day, but so beat from stress and worry and being on edge that he's out within a minute.

The next day is calmer, and not. Walking around LaPush with Embry and hearing all the stories about growing up is fun, and stress free, but there's also lunch with Tiffany and his dad. They get on well. Too well. Because when Stiles said Tiffany is his kind of woman, he really meant she's a **Stilinski** kind of woman. The last thing he wants is for his dad to fall in love with her. Yeah, it should be a good thing for his dad to at least bond with her, to have another parent to talk to and lean on, but. Stiles might have told everyone that he's trying to make this work, but. He's still not committed to this. He might look it on the outside, but inside he's still keeping himself apart.

Part of him wants to just relax and embrace this, to take what's offered and **be Pack**. Sure, he never really felt like he belonged to the Hale pack, not as anything but Derek's botch, but he'd still had the pack to lean on.

None of the betas had really wanted him around, they'd disliked and shunned him, but he'd still been Pack. They'd still been there for him when he'd needed them.

Isaac, pulling a bad-touching member of an opposing team off him, when they guy had cornered Stiles in the empty locker room after an away game.

Danny, making sure the Jackson wannabe understood that "picking on Stilinski" was no longer an accepted part of the script.

Boyd, guarding the Stilinski house, making sure the Alpha pack didn't get to them.

Derek, ripping–

Point is, he knows what having a pack can mean. He knows what it's like to have that. And he misses it.

But at the same time, the thought of accepting this, accepting Embry and the imprint and whatever that means for Stiles' place in all of this... It terrifies him. He remembers, after all, all too well that it had meant to accept the last time. Remembers what his place had been. He still fears it will end up being the same here. And he can't take that. He **won't** take that.

As long as he doesn't fully opens himself up to all of this, there's a chance that he might be able to walk away. Oh, everyone keep telling him that there's no way to break an imprint, that it's for life. Well, fuck that. Stiles is a survivor of Beacon Hills, remember? He's learned that "impossible" only means no one's done it yet, and that he's got pretty good odds when it comes to being first.

If it can be done, Stiles will find out how. Even if it means taking the risk of calling Lydia, begging for her help. **Nothing** is safe, he believes, when it comes to the combined forces of their intellect. He's no idiot, but Lydia's brilliance outshines him, and together... There's a reason he fell so hard, and held out for so long, okay? (It just so happens to be the same reason he's secretly relieved nothing ever came out of it.) Together they could have ruled the world. Or destroyed it.

What is one measly Spirit enforced mating bond going to have that can beat that kind of force?

Turning 18 is a milestone. That's what people tell him anyway. Stiles doesn't feel it. Maybe it's because he's been an adult in so many ways for so long, or maybe it's everything he's seen and done.

He doesn't have a party – doesn't **want** to have one. The last birthday party he had was back when his mom was still alive, and after that, just...no. Birthdays became something he did with his dad, and Scott, and he was happy that way. It helps that none of his new classmates know – after all, who expects a junior to be turning 18?

What he does have is a very nice dinner with his dad on his actual birthday, and then another, not quite as fancy and nowhere near as relaxed, dinner with Embry the next day. And then, as close to a party as he's ever going to get – or so he suspects – there's a night out with his "girls" that Friday. They've planned it for a while, a plan that is only slightly adjusted to accommodate for the werewolves – his not-quite-plus-one and a few more – that beg oh-so-prettily to be included. He doesn't think either of them have any real interest in going to a gay club in Seattle, but hey. They can tag along if they want to – it might give him a few clues as to how sincere they are.

Embry's going, Stiles **knows**, in equal parts to keep an eye on him, get to know him and just spend more time together. (Their bond isn't traditional, no, but it does make a few demands.) The same is probably true of Seth, while as for Brady and Collin, well, it's anyone's guess. It's not like it bothers Stiles either way – he's just looking for a good time, and not in the euphemistic sense. Having four huge bodyguards just means he can let loose and not have to worry about having to fend off unwanted attention.

The club is different enough from the Jungle to not set off any bad memories from his few stolen outings, and he quickly loses himself in the music and the relaxation that comes with being himself. He doesn't hide that he's bi, no, but he doesn't exactly advertise it on a daily basis either. Most of the kids in school seem to be okay with it, but that doesn't mean he wants to get caught checking out someone in the showers. Or at all, honestly, as he knows he's not quite ready to go there. Not again, not yet.

Not when even the possibility of someone thinking Stiles is checking them out has bothered him – and that, basically, explains why his attempts at dating has gone nowhere. Being more or less afraid to show sexual attraction does tend to put a damper on those kind of interactions. He should probably make an effort to change that, he thinks as the music raises his pulse and turns his blood into singing fire.

He's broken, and damaged, and he knows it. Just as he knows it's time he dealt with it.

Because by now he knows Leah's story, all of it, and it scares him. She'd been so hurt, and then so angry, and it had taken her four years, a wedding and two babies to begin to move on. She's still not healed completely, after six? seven? years, and that's just not healthy. Even **Stiles** recognizes how very not healthy it is.

The thing is, he understands it all, understands it all too well. He knows how Leah became so broken, and he respects it – he just knows she should never have been allowed to hold on for so long.

He might see too much of himself in her, but he refuses to **be** her. He's going to learn from her example, and do better. He's going to be strong and whole again.

A few hours in he's relaxed enough to drag Embry close, first for a slow song, and then keeping him there when the music morphs into a sexy beat. He wants, simply put, to see if there's something there. There isn't. Zip, zilch, nada. Nothing. It only takes one look to ascertain that the same is true for Embry. The way that makes Stiles feel... The freedom it creates... Oh, it's glorious.

Intoxicating.

He had, he thinks, accepted Embry's word, his promises on the surface – but he hadn't really **believed** them. Not fully. They were, after all, dealing with ancient spirits, tribal magic and supernatural creatures here. Oh, and **mates**. So, there had still been doubt, and fear, due to his less than stellar prior experiences. But now he can let that go. Now he can open up and give himself over. And he does.

"You really do only want to be my brother," he breathes out with a giddy smile. "Dude, if that didn't make it so gross I could totally kiss you right now."

He spends the rest of his evening high on happiness, surrounding himself with friends and pack, and feeling safer than in a very long time.

It's the best birthday present he's gotten in years.

_~ TBC ~_


End file.
